


Stranger Aeons

by OnlySnakesCanLove



Category: Phantasm (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Brainwashing, Enemies to Friends, F/F, F/M, Fratricide, Graphic Description of Corpses, Lovecraftian, M/M, Multi, Other, Replacement for Ravager, Slavery, Suicide Attempt, Yellow Blood, cosmic horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 44,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22209619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySnakesCanLove/pseuds/OnlySnakesCanLove
Summary: Mike has been taken by The Tall Man, the golden sphere ripped from his head and into parts unknown. He now has no choice but to serve the mortician as a member of his army of the dead. In order to make sense of his new life, he instead makes it his mission to understand The Tall Man, and the ways of his Kind. Will Reggie save him before he's completely lost, or is he already far too late?
Relationships: Lady in Lavender/Mike Pearson, Reggie/OC, The Tall Man & Mike Pearson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	1. The Tall Man I

"That is not dead which can eternal lie

And with strange aeons even death may die."

-H.P. Lovecraft "The Nameless City"

Time for such a young species like humans often grew quicker with age, each year passing faster and with less meaning than the last. For a being such as his Kind, however, it seemed to grow with not so much haste, as with diligence, working the puzzle pieces into place became more a labor of love then of concern. His kind knew what would happen and when, with few variables. The moments of true surprise and excitement were rare but welcome, other times events built up to their magnificent climax with mounting anticipation; the satisfaction savored, if fleeting.

His Kind were infinite and eternal, and their game was the Great Game: the conquest of time and space. His Kind was here before the universe formed, watching stars wink into existence, vast chasms of unfathomable, roiling reaches that the kind of human and his alike could never hope to plunder. Things unseen and seen alike, within reach of each other, existing and not existing within the same pocket of reality.

Reality was nowhere near as concrete and tangible as the humans thought, most of it untouchable and ethereal as the breeze through their hair. Both deep and black, shallow and clear, in rolling waves crashing upon the shore of eternity, ancient and undying as the stars in their sky.

This revelation would be perhaps comforting to their species. The idea that something lay beyond death, past the boundaries of limitation, consciousness and mortal forms. Dreams were more glimpses into other worlds, pathways with corridors ever endless, doors open to every possibility, moreso then they were ever nonsense.

It was not comforting, however, as it also meant they had to deal with _him._

The opening of the gateways between physical worlds let loose his Kind upon this world and all others. His home planet already had especially thin contacts between all worlds, and was in fact where the forms of dead consciousness of this world and others would transfer. It was fascinating how indistinguishable they were once they reverted to forms of energy, albeit pathetic and paltry compared to those of his Kind. Before they even knew what humans were, they were mere whispers on the stale, hot wind. There were more layers of dimensions on their world then there were levels to Dante’s Inferno, and sin mattered not to them.

When the first physical human came, that was when it truly began. He was taken, he was turned, and his Kind’s true talents became known and unsnarled. Their burrows, their cities, their eternal kingdoms rattled with possibilities. The skies opened and world split into more fragments then they could imagine. Their fate became the first thing tangible and real to them, no longer simply traveling the hallways of dimensions and dreams; or the nearby stars where they conquered mere dead planets with their barren moons. The dimensional fork gave them the ability to go anywhere. And just like that, so easily, they became the scourge of galaxies, a wrath upon the breadth of eternity and a plunderer of both time and space. Whole species wiped from the expanse of physicality and the rest taken as slaves, spoils distributed, planets changed to meet their whims. They could not be assuaged, they would take what was rightfully theirs: the primordial Lords of the void betwixt stars.

He walked in a physical form that could feel the ground at his feet, the air in his hair and the clothes on his body. This world would fall slowly, but it would succumb. Much like death, it was inevitable. And just like the realms beyond death, it would be his domain. He would take it for his Kind, and he would have fun doing it. There was no need to rush. Missing this one moment in time would be criminal.

A thought like that made the corner of his physical, human host’s mouth twitch in the slightest smile. Oh yes, it has been fun. Rather annoying at times, he had used more copies of himself then he would have liked- painfully, at that.

The Final Game for this planet had already begun, the Boy’s turning heralded the ability to create the contagion that would kill more than half the world, and change the rest. Some would become his sentinel servants, others would join his army of the dead. Either way they would serve him here or be sent back home, where the need for servants on the physical plane was always high. Although as he spent enough time here, he supposed this began to feel more and more like the world he belonged in.

He so much wanted to spend his invasion taking every town along the way, relishing in the taking of their dead and reanimating them body and mind- Perhaps skirting and defeating the Ice-Cream Man and his token band of motley fools if need be. They were fun, the only challenge he had at this point- but the Boy, the one they called “Mike” was ready. He could sense his planted seed ripening in the boy’s head. It was a succulent irony that The Boy that had first thwarted him, challenged him, made him bleed- would become his progeny. What a wonderful and unexpected surprise.

The Tall Man held The Boy’s cranial sphere in his hand. It was large and golden, still covered with his yellow, thick blood. The blood he had gifted him, along with everything else, to help his transformed body abate the cold. Like everything in him, it had changed cell by cell, atom by atom, at his ministrations. He had to keep his excitement in check, he could enjoy this victory for millennia, best not to celebrate too soon.

For now, Michael’s form was still, hibernating until he was ready. The Boy’s body lay back at the previous dimension, the remnants of his reptile brain no doubt firing off panic signals, perhaps even journeying to dimensions unknown in a vain attempt to keep it’s consciousness free. It didn’t matter- it was one of many Michaels- and they were all his. He owned The Boy before he was born, as well as his brother. What really mattered was that the rest of his brain, the cerebral cortex, where he truly would ascend- was held in his hands.

His home world was now The Boy’s home world, the original world they all hailed from. The one they transferred to when they fled the cold of space. His host body, both his and The Boy’s, saw it in red. A crimson desert as far as the eye could see, stretching miles into its own unforeseeable reach. The Lurkers, the dimunitized beings, stretched along it and gave him the fearful reverence he demanded. They never gave him trouble. Too stupid to question, although quite often not quite up to the task back on The Green Planet. They made excellent miners, harvesting their already barren world of little resources they had left.

Yet despite this, it was home. The Tall Man didn’t just see red with his transformed eyes, but felt and saw the tapestry of ethereal winds woven into the ground and sky. Colors humans didn’t even know existed, couldn’t bare to be described, the sensations of raw energy and solar winds in the thin atmosphere like a hurricane of unyielding, burning gales. He couldn’t wait for The Boy to see it with his evolved eyes.

It would be the first time one of his Kind had been able to do such a thing, procreate a consciousness. Very rarely had The Tall Man ever been worried in his long life, but he had to admit he felt a little concern at the idea of miscalculating, and losing The Boy. He had to be alive at the extraction, otherwise he would pull a drone ball, like that annoying girl from Perigord. Although in that case she never had the hope of carrying the seed, she never had the potential. She failed every test he gave her.

They had a connection, he knew, The Boy and the girl. It was in his Kind’s nature to gravitate towards each other and form intense social bonds. The Tall Man and all his Kind were practically a collective conscious. They had very little desire to compete, and their Kind had no wars, at least not with one another. They were not used to losing one another as they could not die. Once they began to travel space, they found it hard to stay apart from one another. It was one of the many reasons why they were particularly slow in this endeavor.

The Boy’s pain was muddled and mixed, no doubt, from the turmoil he had put him through- but that connection between him and the girl being severed was unlike anything the mortician had felt before. It was something his species simply had no terms to put into. In this, he had no remorse- had the girl lived as well, she would prove competition for his and The Boy’s much-needed bonding, they both would be harder to keep an eye on and control, perhaps they could even be able to breed and prove a problem in both population management and a question to his authority- but it did give him pause.

Be more careful with the boy, he told himself- a lighter touch. When he hung from his neck in Death Valley, when he recounted one of the many realities where he had done the same with himself, shred the rope and offer your hand. Of course he will refuse, he is strong, he carries part of you inside him, carries your blood in his changed veins and whose heart beats altogether a different tone, his tone, but you must not rend him apart. No, no matter how much you may want to.

He needed to extract the sphere as effortlessly as possible, to keep The Boy’s mind intact. It had been something rather tiresome, he had to admit. Being speared by a frozen harpoon had actually annoyed him more than he would like to admit. The cranial sphere almost never ejected itself forcefully, preferring to stay in a warm, grounded host, protected, unless absolutely necessary. When said form froze and shattered however, his baser instincts to save himself kicked in and escaped. That, and well, he was pissed. At that moment he was willing to kill anyone he came into contact with, game be damned.

But that was neither here nor there, he had won that particular game. The Boy was cradled in his two hands, precious cargo he was. The cranial sphere, gold- indicating his rank and importance, his heritage. He shed his larval, Earthly form and became his most basal, basic consciousness. He was not the brain nor the metal, but a collection of swarming energy, a hive of thinking masses, chittering voices and all-seeing eyes. No human eye could see it in this state, nor would most likely want to. Rarely was this own form ever shed naked, though he experienced it back when the hearse exploded in his face. The winds of his form scattered and screamed, terrified at the sudden ejection. Yet his close proximity to a fork had made it bearable.

Jumping from host to host was not a fun thing, it was a necessary thing. Each death hurt, each moment he was dropped into a mineshaft, eaten away from within, frozen and blown up had been remembered forever. Coupled that with changing forms- which no matter what, he felt each time- quite akin to being flayed alive, then laid naked to the endless, undying cold of the most bitter reaches of space- and placed back inside.

His anger faded- yet oddly, his impression remained. Clever Boy, indeed. Fighting to the last moment. It was funny how every time he snarled back, tooth and nail, he was really just cementing his realization that this experiment of his was successful. There was the accelerated decision to dispatch his potential enemies- like his own brother, or the past Jebediah- he was skillful and cunning. Or his biting, fierce rebellion to his reclamation efforts; the more he looked in The Boy’s eyes, the more he saw himself.

He came upon the capital city, non-euclidean, towering and terrible. Many of their cities were underground, others reached into the horrible sky, painted a mix of green from the lights, red from the haze and black from the void of space. He didn’t care for it, many didn’t- too cramped, even for his sparse species and his own high social standing- it was one of the reasons why he spent all his time away. Earth had become more a home then this place had. Yet, the way the spires reached into the heavens, pierced the atmosphere, making nest among the stars; it made even his ancient, cruel heart proud. A fitting narrative for their dominion over land and space made clear.

This city was built by his kind, and the next would be built by slaves. As it should be, as was meant to be.

With a stride as long as his, as tall a form as his, he stood out among the inhabitants. The city was sparse as all their cities were, an empire spread thin among the stars. Other beings, some as ageless as them have tried to war with them, conquer them, find ways to kill them, all crashed and broken like waves on the shore. Instead, they had taken their kind as slaves, as hosts, and sometimes even as pets. Some were long, sinewy worms with hideous mouths- some miasmatic clouds, black and endless, with a thousand unblinking eyes. There were beings of pure light, bigger or smaller than their sphere forms, hidden inside as they pulled the strings. Creatures that were taller than him, reaching into the sky, long sinewy legs, hob-kneed and cloven hooved- struggling to walk with it’s hundred limbs and balloon body in such dense gravity. Some had tentacles, slimy and glistening. Others, dry and blind, flying with rippling ribbons and wild tendrils. Their bodies appearing too impractical to even float, especially in their atmosphere.

All of them, however, felt him, and shuddered. Nothing perished and passed into alter-worlds quite like humans did. Nothing had the reputation that his tall, imposing form did. Humans were famous in this world, yet he was the only one with a host from The Green Planet. It was his realm alone, his domain, as was its dead.

His kind could not die, at least not in the sense that humans knew it. They could go mad, enter a depression that sank them into oblivion, they could be entered into servitude for millennia at a time. They could even sleep if they so choose, but sleep for one of his Kind was no small feat. Their dreams sank them into unknown worlds that may make return difficult. Countless numbers of his kind were lost to the cosmic winds, unable to be found. All because they grew tired, unable to make suitable feed on the aether between dimensions nor the blood of physical beings. Or perhaps simply because they grew bored and weary, dooming themselves to the loneliest of lives possible.

But humans? Oh how they fought, how they hated death. Something that took away their physical being and ate away at it, rife with foetor and the sweet smell of rot. They had no knowledge of the nature of death, the greatest unknown there was. Their burial rituals were fascinating, something of arcane interest to the whole of all other worlds. Especially him. When he turned the human he overtook now; he learned the art of embalming first-hand. It was a marvelous thing. Of pure reverence.

His kind didn’t die; didn’t decompose; didn’t return to the dirt from whence they came. They didn’t have mothers or fathers, brothers or sisters. They didn’t “mourn” for those that passed, because they never could. Flesh made to last a little longer- flesh- something that still felt odd to him- preserved through some chemicals and thread. Sew a mouth and eyes shut, convince a mind that perhaps they still lived, the husk an art piece itself, later he took the body and mind, shackled them, and he gave them an opportunity to serve a greater purpose. They would soon learn just how kind he was, what he had given them.

It was a thing of beauty. Of complete domination of their minds. The living kept believing their dead were laid to rest. He gained two followers for every dead. Their bodies, kept with their reptile brains intact as they fed on his enemies and worked at the mines at home. Their minds became his flock, sheep to his shepherd, silver sentinel spheres that could host a variety of implements. Silver spheres made up the infantry of his army. They were permitted back home on The Red Planet only as slaves. Every now and then one had some blip of self-consciousness, but it was quickly squashed. They would forever be considered the lowest form of society, though calling them anything but “things” was a stretch in its own capacity.

They were Ascended Beings turned soldiers, not beings that lived since the dawn of time. They didn’t carry the same memory, the same boredom from eternal life, the same pain that came with being born from the emptiness between stars and the heat that birthed the universe. They didn’t slumber for thousands of years while the others learned knowledge from the vast reaches of space. They didn’t harvest from polluted rivers and bottomless seas, and take the forms of undulating beasts that dominated the skies. The acrid smoke didn’t sting their host’s lungs as they realized, too late, that what could not kill them as non corporeal beings could still pain them, and began conquering pristine worlds as they sought recompense.

For beings that had no ability to die, his Kind took such high reverence, such interest. Perhaps envy. The hivemind found his presence ominous, unique, exotic and fascinating. Upon the masses swept an unholy curiosity for the eidolon. His kind’s biggest fears were madness and insanity, of resting and being absorbed by the cosmos and appearing far from home. Yet in the back of their minds tickled the very possibility, the faintest of phantasms, that they may be able to die, that something out there may be able to do it. They just haven’t found it yet, and in their greed for conquest they will unearth it’s horrible visage.

Yet others wanted to die, those trapped in the spiral of insanity, those who wish for nothing more but for the ability to be put down, to be put out like a raging fire at the pyre that consumed all hopes along with it. For them his presence was to be revered, cherished, in those halls he was not feared and in the dark, abysmal voids into which the most mad of his kind have fled, they called for him.

Everywhere he went he was surrounded by the embalmed and decayed corpses of the empty, of the deceased, the dead. Their smell became a sweet nectar, the chemicals a perfume. He found himself entrenched, yet enthralled. When he lit the candles of the candelabras and sat in his throne in the dark, he felt them whisper in their spheres, words undecipherable, but they didn’t need to be. He felt the energy rise from the aether surrounding him and it was then that he knew it was time.

He took his title. The Lord of the Dead, and with it, his Kind knelt.

* * *

The laboratory he had furnished on his home planet had the very best of everything. Instruments developed by him long before he had acquired this human form, but many after it as well. Yet even some just after finding out his experiment had taken root. He couldn’t be sure how much of it was surprise on his part. He had no true confidence it would work, and was just as shocked to find The Boy to be the carrier, and not his older brother. All in the very town where his human shell had developed his business and livelihood, the place that bore his name.

He knew it for certain, that the time was now and not generations, millennia from then, but now. In a time frame his Kind would consider not even a blink. Luckily there wasn’t much more to be done. He had built a “cradle”, a metal concave platform lined in a thick, soft, sheepskin material to hold the exact dimensions of a sphere like his own. Around it lay a bay to contain it in case, in his fervor to escape, he fell. He wasn’t taking any chances. The Boy couldn’t walk out of a fork like himself had he been destroyed. Repeating this process could take decades, if he wasn’t lucky enough to snag him in another time and world. It would be far from easy and truth be told, he was ready, and done being disappointed.

He told himself he was being too kind, that The Boy deserved to be uncomfortable and miserable, to break and be scooped up from the polished floor. To perhaps be disciplined so soon and put right back in the desert, in the Funeral Mountains where he could fail again and again, until he learned his lesson. To serve him like he was meant to. Yet he also told himself he was the first of his Kind. A creature born of pure energy, somehow harnessed, somehow compressed, copied, passed through molecules like a screaming, dying star and made flesh. He had harnessed the human’s own inferior brain and consciousness, and fused it with his own to walk among their godly forms. Like some lower, fetid beast of burden being brought to heal- something vile learning to walk that had ought to crawl.

Sometimes, he did delight in the silver sentinels, especially the ones that knew their place. The ones that got results. The Tall Man would be the first in admitting they didn’t always hit their desired targets. So many were harvested from old corpses, rotted brains that had lost far too much knowledge, they looked promising but delighted in killing anything, including his own troops. Many of his followers were influenced by his trance-like ability, however, not revived from the dead- he supposed he couldn’t blame the spheres too much. They gave off too much heat, prime fodder when their blood was up.

His Kind wasn’t devoid of compassion, and neither was he. Never would he admit the totality of it, the weakness he knew it presented; yet this planet was a lonely one. Despite the strong bonds his Kind formed with others, he saw no desire or kinship with them. The Red Planet was alien even to him. He slept for millions of years at a time, out of boredom, depression, sometimes out of a desire to share a conversation with another, form a physical bond, touch, share his culture and perhaps even their culture to him- it made him feel an unending, nauseous unease.

From a species who prided itself, lied to itself, his hivemind had delayed but not died. All of his kind felt drawn to another, had tried in their vain hopes to reproduce. To do more than just copy, assault the multiple dimensions with more and more of blank slates ready to be activated. The humans were a perfect host, numerous, easy to breed, easy to fool. Their minds especially held very high promise, some of their population being very receptive. There were many names like psychic, empath, practitioners of dark arts; others said to be mad, sometimes all of the above. Their third eye was open and unblinking, like a doorway to his Kind and the worlds beyond it.

The Boy had been a dreamer, able to travel to other worlds all while asleep and unbidden. He reached out with tendrils spreading through the layers of time and space, calling to him and he was to The Boy, all without them knowing it. The Tall Man had closed his fist around the tendril and squeezed it apart from the screaming thing, an annoyance, a plaything, and it had writhed. Like so many humans before it was but a thing to be driven down and dominated.

But no, he didn’t linger long on those thoughts. Not for long. The Boy was his now, painfully killed by extracting his brain from his body, his brother also his in perpetual, fearful servitude, the ice cream man, a favorite play-thing of his, searching in some godforsaken world somewhere. The pride of his breeding program was here, would be presented to court for all to see and marvel. Beside him would stand his failure of a brother, a perfect example of contrast, like the whipped Dog that he was.

Being scorched black was the worst possible mark to his Kind. The chrome sheen signified the unending worlds the reflection provided. A matt black was a massive shuttering of possibilities, reducing their Kind to the beginning, when they lived in agony writhing in the cold vacuum of space and drifting further to the first dying stars. They had no prisons, only servitude. His scorching would signify to everyone how he had defied him and was punished severely.

However, this “Jody” was rather unique. He had more abilities then the black sphere would ever utilize, and The Tall Man nearly gave into interest and considered travelling into a time where he hadn’t dabbled in heavy drug use during his time on the road, wondering if this was the key factor in frying what was left of his potential. In the end, he decided he wasn’t worth it.

Speak of the devil. The black sphere’s gentle levitation droned as it entered the room. He had called him, in what felt like ages ago. For a being like him, that was no small feat.

“Do you ever cease in disappointing me?”

Silence, yet he could feel the shame and resolute terror from the mongrel. He was not built to be a soldier, that much was certain. A coward, only useful from his genetic relation to his progeny and unique brain. The fact that he could rebel was evidence enough. It was the only reason why he was still alive.

“ _I’m sorry, my Lord._ ” It was just low enough, he could barely hear it. He was frightened, at least. His consciousness shivered in his presence.

“I find that hard to believe. You didn’t see that fool hand him the tuning fork? Or maybe you did- chose not to divulge that with me?”

“ _No, my Lord. I didn’t see that. I didn’t-_ ”

He’s crying. The Tall Man almost never audibly sighed, but he did this time. The Dog had been broken in and mind flayed. The nerve endings left in his brain were ravaged from his corrections, and he feared them with every atom of his being. He almost felt bad, there was no sport in this.

“Shut up!” The brother levitated back, the chittering from the sphere audible as it tried to placate him. “The least you could have done was put up a fight! You’re lucky I copied you, if I didn’t need you, you’d have never seen your damned brother again.”

Jody’s ball flew low, like his head laid low to a chopping block.

“ _Is he… Is he okay? Can I see-_ ”

The Tall Man’s eyes darted up and held onto him. He could sense him trying to take his human form, but he willed against it. No. He didn’t get that privilege now. There were sentinels more loyal than him, reaching some level of near-sentience who hated his status and wanted him to be placed in servitude. They sowed anger among the ranks, and he allowed it, because he wanted him punished. He didn’t deserve his rank, his scorched-black exterior and damaged psyche was the agony he deserved.

“You will leave. When you are needed you will be called.”

“ _But is he okay-_ ”

Had he been in a worse mood Jody would have been most likely ripped asunder. Instead he was thrown across the room, hitting it and bouncing with just enough force and direction that it flew down and rolled down the side. Sparks flew from the contact, and the black sphere lay silent. He wasn’t dead- although he wished it more and more. The audacity to talk back, the freedom he was able to take made him rage. When the time came he may very well place him in his own hell so he may be punished at his leisure. Yet for now? A token of goodwill, a gift, and a manipulation tool for The Boy.

Until then he let the ball lay, discarded until he decided to retrieve him. He took the golden sphere to the sink, where he cleaned it with a rag, carefully until his blood had been washed away, polishing it with a dry one until it shone. He held it with reverence, petting it as he felt the life hum underneath. Yes, the flesh construct had died completely just about now. His consciousness had been magnetized to this one just as predicted. He held him asleep and at bay, he would need to rest first.

“Pulling him out now could be damaging… I need him healthy.” Just as he had let the boy’s body rest for years after the hearse wreck, he knew sometimes it was best to wait. Around the cradle was a clear incubator. He opened the door and placed the sphere inside, feeling a slight sense of comfort from the golden sphere when he did so.

Closing the door, he locked it, making adjustments on the nearby monitor for a temperature hotter than Earth could ever get. This was one of the reasons he had led the boy to Death Valley, take him somewhere hot and barren, rocky- somewhere where the cranial sphere that housed his true form would be comfortable. Indeed he had, slowly awakening, emerging like a bird from an egg. His abilities formed quicker, he was summoning new dimensional forks without even trying, utilizing his bond and connection to the hivemind as he made his own sentinel sphere and a damned car bomb.

It was almost cute- perhaps he would appreciate it more when he wasn’t still reeling from the mental anguish of being blown to bits. But he had infinity to let him know how much he appreciated being destroyed over and over again. Maybe in many of their future games, he could see to it personally.

Walking out of the room, The Tall Man decided to partake in the slightest of urges and pick up Jody’s sphere. He could have sworn he heard it crying again, but paid it no mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I want to say first off, this story is going to be long. I have so many ideas I hope I can fit them all, but I will do my best to finish this. I am not known for finishing stories so I HOPE TO GOD I do it this time. I know nobody will read this, this fandom is PALTRY and it's painful- so I really just want to ask you to review please, it will really help me to keep writing. 
> 
> Secondly, this fic is inspired HEAVILY by both Lovecraft and Dune, as I feel Phantasm is very Lovecraftian and it's a known fact that Don Coscarelli loves Dune and the first Phantasm at least was clearly influenced by it. If you read something and think, oh hey that happened in Dune, you would be correct, that is intentional.
> 
> Third, Phantasm is kept ambiguous for a reason, and if I was filming this instead of writing, I would probably try to do the same. But not only can one not really do that with writing, but I also tend to be, by my nature, one who over-explains things. I am trying my best not to explain everything at once, but I'm sure it still comes across that way. If you don't like the backstory I'm giving The Tall Man's Kind, sadly I have little choice but to construct something if I want to paint a world for them to live in. 
> 
> Fourth, this fic is meant to be a replacement for Ravager. I did not care for it, to put it nicely. However there are a lot of ideas I liked in there, like the big sentinel spheres. I will include some of the things I liked, but that's it. If you liked Ravager, you can imagine this as simply being an alternate reality or something. But the main reason why I decided to write this was to satisfy the need for a Phantasm 5 that wasn't horrible. (Sorry)
> 
> Fifth, still deciding who exactly is gonna bone in this fic. Still not sure if I want to post them as separate stories or not. Let me know in a review or PM what you think.
> 
> Sixth, if you happen to be someone who worked on Phantasm, I apologize for ruining it, lol. I also apologize for any porn I may make. Again, sorry. Yikes.
> 
> REVIEW!


	2. Mike Pearson I

Michael Pearson couldn’t be any more confused if he tried. He supposed he should be used to it by now, as it was the natural course of things. Hell it had been all he had known. His life had been either a joke or a tragic tale, depending on what mood he was in, and of course the person listening. One minute he was a happy boy growing up in Oregon, the world ahead of him- the next he stayed with a family friend. His parents dead, his brother dead, his aunt said to be impossible to find. It’s like the world had moved pieces to destroy him. Like they put him exactly where he needed to be, in order to be the loneliest boy alive. 

Reggie was a good friend, the best friend- but he wasn’t his mom, his dad or even his brother. No matter how hard he tried, and God knows he did try. Jody couldn’t even afford his time after taking the helm at the family bank, Reggie tried to take him along on his ice cream runs but his depression got the better of him most days. Staying at home in Reggie’s spacious home as he read his comics, read his sci-fi, space, and fantasy books, dreaming of a world where he was an adventurer, discovering new lands and ruling whole kingdoms. 

Or at least, that was what he could remember some nights.

Others, he remembered a time when his parents lived, and Jody died. The wreck was so bad that there was no viewing, or at least that’s what they told him. He tried to wrack his brain to recall if The Tall Man was in that one, too. There was a funeral, mom and dad- but it all blurred into one another. He didn’t think he was particularly happy in that world, either. There were some memories where nobody died at all, but Reggie- he had been stabbed. They say he killed himself, like Tommy. Yet he knew better.

He barely knew what was real anymore. For the most part he remembered following his brother to his friend’s funeral, and when everyone else had left, he watched The Tall Man load the casket back into the hearse all by himself. At the end of the next night he had known Reggie was dead but the Tall Man was lured to a mine shaft. Or was that a hanging tree? Fuck. Or was it one, and then the other? Did it matter? Either way it was a waste. He couldn’t be killed.

His eyes had opened and he was told it had all been a _bad dream,_ a nightmare. It had hurt, stung fiercely, just because he was a kid didn’t mean he didn’t know the difference between being awake and being asleep. Like he had never had a nightmare before. It had been his reality both waking and asleep after his parents were killed. This happened, this was _real_. To this day he didn’t know if it had been him that had done it, or that tall bastard- but a switch had been flicked, and like that he was in another dimension. One where Jody and his parents had all been killed. The pain he felt when Reggie had told him had smothered any relief he may have felt at the alleged dream. No, no, no no no- not Jody too. You goddamn bastard, don’t you take him from me, too-

Mike barely had time to react when it happened. Reggie wanted to cheer him up, a road trip! The last thing he wanted was to see this town again, day after day. The town named after _him,_ or at least the human form he took. He didn’t want to spend another hour in a bed that terrified him, dreaming of either a better life or a worse one. He ran upstairs and began to gather his things, clutching a picture of his brother in better times. 

Something was wrong. A prickling at the back of the neck, a foreboding that filled him from top to bottom. _Him._ He looked up, and there- in the mirror, in the corner of his room-

“ _Boooooooooyyy!”_

_‘He knows.-’_ He felt it rather than thought it, he somehow knew. Like an intrusive thought, a voice. 

_'He’s come for me. He went after mom and dad, then Jody- now he’s after you.’_

_He_ knew it, Reggie didn’t know. He wouldn’t know- not until later. Not until the same pain of loss hit him. Not until he had lost it all. Not until he was singled out and made abandoned. Just like him.

In the reality he remembered best, he had been dragged out of a house that would later explode from a lit gas leak. The Tall Man had been trying to harvest him early, probably keep him and groom him until the ‘fruit’ he grew ripened and could be plucked. He tried to dream of a reality where this had happened instead, he hadn’t found it yet. He didn’t look too hard- he wasn’t sure he wanted to find it. 

Although, in reality, he can’t suppose the life he did recall was much better. He remembered waking up in a clinic; the Morningside Psychiatric Hospital. It was a nice way to say nuthouse, he remembered he used to ride past it in the ‘Cuda and his dirt bike. He recalled always being told not to go near it, riddled with the omnipresent fear of the unknown as he envisioned a crazy person snatching him from his bike. It’s why he eventually stopped making trips that way, on his dirtbike at least. In the ‘Cuda with his brother by his side, he would tell stories of people escaping just to give him a jump. Or maybe even a casual jab about “the looney bin” and about how he was sure he would wind up there one day. Harmless at the time, but not so much now. 

Seven years of his life had been pissed away. Seven whole, goddamn wasted years. He became a man behind those walls, physically he supposed- he had remained a virgin the whole time- his voice had changed, facial hair began to sprout as well as hair in more secretive places. Reggie tried to explain safe sex to him, but it had been ruined already by the staff informing him fraternizing in that way was not accepted. There would be no kissing, no hand-holding- no fucking, for certain. Jody had already spoiled him on stories and porno mags long before he came here. Rubbing one out became difficult when he was watched like a hawk both asleep and awake. Each time he got a hard on from a memory or in visions of a faraway girl, he had to check both ways like a prisoner locked up for some unimaginable crime. 

More often than not, that damn Lady in Lavender would pop up in his fantasies. He still remembered her perky, perfect breasts that night in the cemetery. Right before he was scared away and interrupted them both. Or should he say, _him._ Mike saw how fast they appeared the next night, when The Tall Man chased him through the hills, on his way to the tree or mine shaft. It had been _him,_ he had changed his form. Christ, he couldn’t begin to explain how fucked up and weird that made those fantasies. She had a succubine allure to her he couldn’t place. He had to ask himself if The Tall Man enjoying changing into an attractive young woman, squeezing the young men’s cocks dry until they were spent, tired and pliable, so he could ensnare them and kill them with absolute certainty. 

Mike had hoped all those moments when he was unable to fight back the fantasies, was pulled in by The Lady in Lavender and her magnificent cunt- were just fantasies and not The Tall Man actively tormenting him. He had hoped, and hoped some more, because he didn’t want to know the answer. The Boy was far too curious for his own good, and found he all too often ended up asking those questions to himself, anyway.

He had missed out on everything. Reggie would visit, bring him some things he could keep, some things he couldn’t. Music, books, the occasional VHS tape. He watched movies go from something you saw at a theater only, to a home commodity. He watched radios turn into something one could wear at their hip and move around with. Mike knew if he had been on the outside he would have done nothing but listen to a Walkman as he made his way about town. Music grew harder and faster, bigger and with more hair. Music videos became a staple when he had access to a TV, leading to more than one dispute over it’s volume. The angry, violent and sexual lyrics became a companion in the boring place.

There were orderlies he liked, nurses, even doctors- but none of them believed him. Some of the other patients would, but the more he got to know them, the more isolated he grew. He was telling the truth, he wasn’t insane. These people were. These people were in there for hurting someone or themselves, for seeing things that weren’t there. The Tall Man was very real. The flying spheres and hot, red world were _real._ Michael had seen it, felt it, smelled the odor the disgusting dwarves gave off. Felt the very real terror only the truly horrific instilled.

Micheal had grown up behind those walls, growing taller and leaner. Yet there was another development, one of the mind. He could sense others, ones like him. Their dreams of The Tall Man had been less physical, but they had seen him. Liz was his closest of them all, dreaming of both Mike’s experience and her own. Even in here, where The Tall Man could be watching him at any time, he felt a connection he couldn’t place. Liz did as well, like one giant network connected by a link that couldn’t be seen. Micheal could always dream odd things, could control them, seek out people and places. After he began to stay in the hospital, he went to work at perfecting these connections. It should have terrified him, should have told him right from the beginning that something about him wasn’t right. In the end he had been happy to have a friend. He had been glad to talk to someone who didn’t think he was crazy. Because in his own mind, he couldn’t be controlled. Not yet, anyway.

One night Liz cried out to him for help. She said her grandfather would die soon, then her dreams would become reality. She couldn’t do this alone, and neither could he. It got to the point where he had to act, and if he didn’t do something now she would be The Tall Man’s latest victim.

He began to lie, tell them what they wanted to hear. _‘It’s all a dream.’_ His medication was scaled back, his head grew clearer. There were always some pills- _‘What was in those pills? Was that what changed me?’_ But he no longer felt like a walking pharmacy, in the very least. It amazed him how easy and quick it was. They were eager to get rid of him, to make room for more patients and save the state some money. 

_‘That or he wanted me out._ ’ He had guessed. 

_‘What, you think he didn’t know you two were talking? You think her grandpa just croaked one day, for no reason? You don’t think you and her were cattle to be weeded out, like a culling to find that one sacred cow?’_

He realized that the paranoia he had developed from The Tall Man was very real no matter the context. No matter what happened, he would be cursed forever knowing he could be behind any corner pulling the strings of his life.

Reggie’s family, gone, because of him. Liz, her grandparents, dead because of him. Mom, dad, and Jody… Dead, because of him. He had tried and failed. The Tall Man could not be killed, only barely inconvenienced, stunned perhaps. The only thing setting him back seemed to be that he was savoring the moment. This was all a game to him, a means of amusement for a being whose lifespan could very well be older than time itself.

His first stop had not been to call Reggie and ask him to pick him up, but instead walked out the front door and to a nearby graveyard. This one wasn’t Morningside Cemetery but it might as well have been, because no doubt every grave in the little town of Morningside and the nearby suburban township of China Grove had been looted long ago, and The Tall Man most likely long gone. 

Reggie found him, bless the man. He had tried to talk sense into him, and told him the cold, hard truth. If anyone saw him doing this, they’d take him back. Then Liz would be a goner, so would the rest of his life. When what good would that do you? He was actually getting excited about meeting Reggie’s family, he loved talking about them. Every time he visited, he’d regale you with stories concerning his little girl. He didn’t think he’d seen Reggie as happy since. 

The message came to him much like Liz’s words have, the image of a gas stove being turned on and cranked up to the max, it was plain as day.

_‘Welcome home, boyyyyyy….’_

He screamed to Reggie a warning, but it had been too little too late. The house went up in flames much like it did the first time. It had been retribution for the same act towards _him_ , in another time and in another dimension. He had remembered even if Reggie didn’t. Both himself and The Tall Man seemed to remember everything, no matter where they ended up, existing outside of time and space. He didn’t want to admit it, but he should have known back then that something was ‘wrong’ with him. The similarities were there, he simply pretended not to notice them. 

Oh how Mike hated the mourning process. It had become all he’d known at this point. His stay in a mental hospital had been bookended by funerals, and now he had to be the shoulder to lean on, it was his turn. Reggie grieved intensely for his wife, daughter and aunt. For days on end he alternated between sobbing, wailing and staring into space. Mike didn’t have the emotional stability himself to deal with it, unable to be the rock for someone else that Reggie had been for him. He would excuse himself and walk outside, staring up at the stars- and yet even then, he felt a pull, a gravitas towards them. Something was pulling a string ever-taught, and he had assumed it was Liz. He would have, however, assumed wrong.

How many funerals had he been to at this point? He thinks he lost count. The Tall Man and his imposing mausoleum had both vanished, and to say it had the town baffled would be an understatement. It was comforting to know that in the very least, Mike and Jody had saved the town. In this reality at least. There was little left of his family’s bodies, and he was tempted to ask him to have them cremated instead. Yet he couldn’t bear to ask his friend whether it was okay to incinerate the bodies of his loved ones any further. Luckily Reggie’s extended family handled most of it.

Reggie and him had to get new suits, had to host the wake at Reggie’s mother-in-law’s house due to a lack of his accommodations at the moment, had to answer questions from both the police, insurance and gas companies. Reggie’s lawyer had contacted him with an attempt at litigation against the makers of the gas stove, but he hesitated. Not only was this more stress then what he could deal with, but it was all in what Mike had said right before they arrived.

“You knew… before it happened.” 

Reggie said at the funeral. He didn’t even look at him, he just kept staring ahead, trying to fit the pieces together concerning this strange new reality that sprang to life before him. Mike could relate, he’d felt that way many times. He told him he was sorry, it was the only thing he could think of. Because yes, indeed he had- he had seen it, heard it, him- The Tall Man. And even now, it still terrified him, because these abilities he had did nothing to save his friends and family, only push a message of dire masochism on the part of its sender. 

“Let’s go, Mike. We have things to do.”

And indeed, they did.

* * *

Mike wasn’t out in the ‘real world’ long when he was pulled out a window from the back of a hearse, his vision going black and body going slack. He didn’t remember much about the coma, which was odd considering he had been out for a good two years. His muscles still ached from being pulled out of bed without recuperation, his entire body atrophied and weak. Even back then he had felt odd, but put it off as quite obviously a result of awakening from a long coma from a head injury. 

His head felt heavier, his neck tired but carrying it all the same. The chill of the night air bothered him a bit more. Or even the way his heart was beating, it felt slower and pulsed in his ears audibly, _‘All those drugs.’_ He had surmised.

_‘Remember when you used to stand up to the orderlies? Tell them you didn’t want to go to bed because HE was there? The way they’d hold you down and stab a needle in your ass?’_ God, he swore sometimes they scraped the bone. _‘Your heart would hammer in your ears then you would pass out?’_

Except it had not been Thorazine and it had not been the coma. It had been something else. 

Michael Pearson would indeed be, something else.

The Tall Man wanted him. For what, he didn’t exactly know. Why keep coming after him? Had he really hated him that much, he was worth diverting so much time and energy from his own plans? He doubted it. The Tall Man wasn’t that petty. 

Funny. He was beginning to understand the alien more then himself these days. 

Mike spent the car ride cradling his head, a migraine pounding away as his vision blurred. Ideally it would have been nice to talk to a doctor before he left, get some medication. Something clearly was still wrong with him. He asked with casual certainty where Liz was, his ability to psychically reach out to her blurred by his apparently still severe head injury. It was then when Reggie went silent, looked out his driver's side window and broke the news to him. Liz was dead, she had been dead for two years, killed by The Tall Man and his army of undead dwarves. When asked if he got her body, he went silent for even longer.

“I’m sorry, Mike…” He admitted, “Listen, you just got out of the hospital, maybe-”

"Tell me! I need to know, Reg!”

Reggie stared out the windshield, deciding to be as honest as he could stand.

“He just wanted her head. I don’t know why… But that’s all he took. He wanted you in one piece...It’s why we’re both still here, Mike.”

Absorbing that was hard. _‘Her head? Just her head?’_ He watched out the passenger window as the tears fell. It felt like another half of him was gone. First his brother, his blood, then someone of the same mind. He couldn’t sense any of the other connections he had, any of the others across the western seaboard and beyond. All that was left was him.

He came back to Reggie’s new but modest dwelling, swearing he had seen the form of his long-dead brother from the car, leaning casually against a tree. It wasn’t just his body, but his voice echoed in his head; ‘ _Mike’-_ It was him, not just a phantasm, or a ghost. The drugs from the hospital could only do so much, the head injury, maybe? Making things far more real than he could ever imagine? 

No, Reggie said. His brother had been dead for ten years. Dead, burned up, buried. The Tall Man couldn’t have used the body even if he wanted to. That’s what he told himself, before he knew. 

Instead, he found his brother inside the home of his best friend. Reggie had been suspicious, but not him. He had known the voices and images were real, his dreams were _real,_ they _came true_. He may have been a boy in the mind of everyone else, his features still smooth, his body limber and nubile, but he was also a man. His mind had been damaged beyond repair on both fronts, causing him to feel far older than he looked. Mike’s life had been wasted inside the hospital and practically ceased to be as he lay in a hospital bed. All the while, he realized that perhaps it wasn’t so much wasting away as being grown, prodded, and nurtured by another force. He hoped he was wrong, although lately he had learned hope didn’t mean a whole lot in the real world.

None of it mattered. His brother was alive, he would do it all again and again if it meant his brother was still _alive._ He didn’t dare to ask and didn’t dare to care, less he lose him again. Between learning of different worlds and planets beyond his mortal understanding, he had come to realize his idea of ‘possible’ was not compatible with these facts. There were endless possibilities and he could see but a fraction. Perhaps Jody had slipped through? Maybe he faked his death to get away from the responsibility of raising him? Shitty, but he didn’t care anymore. He never saw his body- _he never saw the body._

_“_ I don’t want you to end up like me. _”_

Jody had been changed into one of those silver balls, the sentinel spheres. He was a slave for The Tall Man, although it was clear that Jody had been able to rebel and got away at some point. Or at least, it made some sense at the time. Jody had looked terrified any time he had to defy The Tall Man, at times his body or the illusion presented shaking in both fear as well as an unwilling reverence. 

It didn’t matter. It had happened. He didn’t listen, he didn’t run when he had the chance. He had been worried for the well-being of a man already long-gone. His brother rocketed towards The Tall Man in an attempt to stall, only to be burned black and charred by the alien’s own abilities. He heard the way the silver sphere crackled, like a boiled egg ready to burst. In the end he didn’t even have time to react, he had stood there like an idiot and watched. 

“It’s time, boy.” Time? Time, for what? What was he talking about?

His body seized as he lost all control. He was sure if he wanted to The Tall Man could stop his heart. 

“Why…? Why me...?”

A valid question, one he still didn’t get an answer for. Keeping one in the dark seemed to be a favorite past time for the interdimensional being.

He had been carried by the telepathic force through a spacegate in Reggie’s hallway, and to his surprise it was not The Red Planet on the other side. Instead he was in another mausoleum, effortlessly he had been guided into an empty vault and the front had been closed behind him. He had yelled in anger and confusion, asking for answers, for a reason why he was given back his brother but imprisoned in the same night. Calls for Reggie and Jody fell on deaf ears. So did his calls for his parents, although he was less proud of those. Yes, he was a man now- but a boy he would remain for longer then he would like. He would be embarrassed to admit it, but he cried for his mother. The Tall Man himself could go ahead and mock him for it, he didn’t care. 

“ _I just want to go home…”_

What was home, anyway? Was it the home back in China Grove, that he grew up in, the one home he came back to after he lost his parents and brother? Was it the house that was now an empty lot, Reggie’s old home, either one blown to bits? Was home the mental hospital, where in the very least wasn't the one physically invaded by The Tall Man? Perhaps the hospital bed was home? Reggie’s new house was perhaps home at this point, despite being invaded and plucked from it’s safety? 

None of them felt like home. Mike wasn’t sure he ever had one. Home was supposed to be comfortable, safe, and full of loved ones. He missed the feeling of being told he was loved, of his brother by his side, his father protecting him, his mother holding him. Mike hadn’t been held in a long time- he wouldn’t have wanted it when he was thirteen, would have protested, would have felt infantilized and babied, but now he was a grown-ass man, and yet he needed it now more than ever.

Mike had been abandoned, he knew that. Everyone he knew and loved were dead or close enough to it. Jody was… Christ, he didn’t know, he seemed real enough. Reggie was risking everything for him and he didn’t entirely understand why. He wasn’t worth it, or at least that’s how he felt. He was one damaged man with the scrambled brains of a boy. If it wasn’t for his brother teaching him to drive the ‘Cuda, he never would have gotten a license. The hospital made strides where they could to get him educated, to get him to a license center. It didn’t matter in the end. He barely knew how the world worked, hadn’t even finished high school. If he had the time, he couldn’t have even gotten a job thanks to his lack of a diploma or GED.

As he sulked, he fell asleep. He had no idea how long he had been out, anything from hours to days. However he had felt that quite familiar presence, The Tall Man. He had been “checking” on him, looking through what appeared to be a now invisible vault door. He knew it had not been removed, could sense his power working. Mike didn’t have time to wonder why, just pleaded for his release. It was cold in here, aching to his bones, it bothered him more than it had ought to. 

_‘No’_ , he was told, instead. “ _He knew the way out._ ” 

The young man had no idea what it meant. Mike still wondered why he just didn’t harvest him then, but knew that in the end, The Tall Man liked to play the long game if at all possible. Whether this was him in particular or his kind in general, he didn’t know. Not yet.

He had called him back, and it had all been done without him knowing. The ability for The Tall Man to plant ideas into his subconscious wasn’t known at the time. Still, it was so glaringly obvious in this case he blamed himself for the whole affair. He had wound up back to where he started, he was right. Micheal had even suggested they go there- stupid! How stupid he was- he led them right back to the same mortuary he had been imprisoned inside. How did he think this was a good idea? Why did he do it so confidently? How is it he didn’t concern himself more with the welfare of his friends? 

Not only had he been tired, he had been curious ever still. He knew even then that his fate was sealed, that when The Tall Man wanted something he took it, sooner or later. Mike wished he knew if the things he thought and wondered about were normal, his experience with other kids and adults limited. Reggie was always so supportive, but he was far from normal himself anymore. He felt safer than he had any right to, falling asleep on the table in the embalming room with Jody’s sphere on his forehead. Perfectly balanced, he formed a stronger link than they had even in life. Normal life, that was- although he couldn’t say for sure what that was anymore.

He had wanted to know more about _him_ , to understand what all this torture was about. What had been so important to ruin his life, and the life of so many others? Jody showed him the process of making the sentinel spheres and dwarf creatures, all by eavesdropping on The Tall Man himself. The fact that every one of the silver spheres contained the shrunken brain of the deceased suddenly made him feel ill. How many had they killed by now? Could they all rebel like Jody? Could any of them have been saved? 

His curiosity had gotten the better of him once again. Jody had brought him in through an overlapping dimension, he should have been safe. Yet this wasn’t just anyone, this was The Tall Man, and Micheal had learned that once again, there was something different about himself that The Tall Man noticed. He was able to be sensed quite easily, and despite Jody’s urging he had not fled, his terror paralyzing him before he even had a chance.

Thrown to the floor, he had looked up to behold thousands of the spheres, some rocking and moving as they waited for further instructions. The Tall Man loomed before them all, making his way over without a single care in the world. He would win the upcoming war, the ancient mortician had seen it, and the seed of that inevitability bloomed in his head at that moment.The only question was just how satisfying it would be.

Plucking Jody from his forehead had broken the dream. He was _here-_ here for real- _was he here this whole time?_

Jody rebelled, but was quelled and put into stasis at a mere command. His heart rocketed against his ribs, stomach dropped and adrenaline surging. He was going to die. This was going to be it, and if he was lucky it would be quick. Tim was brought in by some of his zombie lackeys, he tried to warn Tim but- with a motion and a hand down his face, The Tall Man had sent his motor functions into a complete standstill. He wished it had come with a reduced heart rate or anesthetic- as it sent terror launching him into new heights. He thought he may faint or black out; but no, he wasn’t that lucky. Mike was unable to move, even his fucking _eyes,_ they could do nothing but stare ahead _-_ The Tall Man revealed the same strange saw device that the nurse had wielded back at the hospital, then lowered it as he gently tilted his head to the side to reveal the temple.

“Let me release you from this… imperfect flesh that ties you to time and space. All that is unknown will be known to you, once more.”

What the fuck did that mean! What the fuck does any of this _mean?_ Would someone just _talk_ to him, please! 

All he could do was scream and shake as his body was held in place. The slow grinding of the saw continued unabated. It was obviously made to cut bone, and The Tall Man didn’t put much concern towards being gentle or particularly merciful. He hit the skin and the bone as quickly as possible, and he felt them both. Pain reached levels he had never experienced in his short life, and he prayed that he would pass out soon enough. Whatever he was doing, he was powerless to stop it.

_“His kind is amassing an army, to conquer worlds.”_

He thought back to the process it took to make the dwarf creatures, wondered why he wasn’t killed and shrunken first if that’s what he had wanted to do with him. 

Suddenly, the agony had stopped. At least, the active part of it- the ache still beat and throbbed in his skull, but at least the hold on him had faltered then ceased. He registered through the haze that Reggie and the new girl, Rocky, had speared and pushed his advisory into a freezer. All of it was secondary to the fresh wound he had just received, thick, mucousy blood streaming down. He touched it gingerly to gauge the damage, afraid to feel brain tissue, when he pulled his hand away to see how much he was bleeding, he stopped cold.

Yellow. The blood on his hand was yellow. 

Not just that, but thick, smelling less of copper and more of a sugary candy, like the kind he used to get from the general store as a kid. The first time he had seen it was when he broke into the Morningside Mausoleum and cut off The Tallman’s fingers. He swore his heart stopped beating, it very well may have. Feeling the slimy consistency on his fingers, inhaling and practically tasting the air around him, he was more familiar with the substance then he wanted to be. He had been positive the Tall Man’s injury had not splashed on him at all, he hadn’t felt it-

_'What the fuck is going on. What the fuck is going on. What the fuck-’_

Micheal dare not think more about it. Not until he knew. He half stumbled, half ran towards a room with some sort of mirror. A flower room had one above it’s sink, although he entered the said room with more hesitance then he could stand. Did he want to know? Could he bear to know?

The yellow bled from the open wound on his head. He looked to his hand and felt the texture, all the while his skin prickled and body temperature dropped. A cold sweat developed, and he felt the most afraid he had ever been in his life. He leaned closer and braced as he felt the agony of the wound as he peeled it back-

No, not his brain, not more fat or skin, but a sphere. A large, golden sphere. It reminded him of the one he had fought in the mortuary at Perigord, but this one felt different. This one felt… _higher._ Sentient. This one was… _him._

_‘Oh God, oh god, no- no please-’_

This was _him_ . He was one of them. This was why The Tall Man was after him, he had at some point transformed him into one of his Kind. When he did it, he didn’t know- _he didn't know anything for sure anymore._ And it didn’t matter. It was done. Something told Mike this process wasn’t reversible.

He pushed the skull and skin flap back, fervidly, as if hiding the evidence would make it all go away. Hyperventilating, he felt himself go numb. As he leaned forward, he grabbed the edge of the sink and felt the need to pass out. Outside he heard his friends fighting back against something, he wasn’t sure what, and for the first time in his life he just wanted them to go away. 

_‘I don’t want you to end up like me.’_

Too late, Jody. Something told Micheal the process started long before he could stop it. 

_‘I need to leave. Flee into the woods, or take a hearse. Just go. Get away from them. You can’t be trusted, you’ll hurt them. You know you will.’_

Duty more than anything else made Michael stumble out of that room. The stress as well as the recent attempted excision had caused the sphere in Mike’s head to react. He felt his body temperature drop and looked down to see his skin turn a pale pallor. 

‘ _Like him, like the dead.’_

He found them by the cryogenics, the agony of the intense cold clear even from that distance. His appearance shocked them both, Rocky reacted to him out of fear, readying her nun-chucks. She was right. He was on the other side, now. He could feel his skin begin to crystallize and the blinding pain form from even this far a distance, he backed up, walking away and towards the way out.

_“It’s cold…”_

Reggie chased, his heart seizing against his ribs as he wished he could hug his best friend goodbye, wished he could explain it so he would understand. How would Reggie react to being told his best friend was now one of the enemy? That he bled yellow and desired more and more to be with his own kind? His connection to The Tall Man was agonizingly strong, and took everything in his power not to run back to the mortuary and find him.

_“Stay away from me.”_

It was all he could say. He didn’t trust his own body, his own mind. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else with his problems. This was his fight now, and he would find out how to end it.

Reggie didn’t follow. He thinks he heard his brother back there, telling Reggie to be patient. To not believe everything they see. Apt wisdom, although he wasn’t sure how that helped anybody now. Mike had needed help more than ever, and the sad part is that he was going to receive it from the last person possible.

In a haze, he found a hearse beyond the woods, the first one in a line. The keys were in it, and he had to wonder if this was intentional. Before he knew it, he was in the front seat and started the car. Mike was out on the road and driving south east a good few miles before he broke down in a mess of stress. He pulled the car over and screamed as loud as he could, crying and sniffling, all the while the wound in his head throbbing.

_‘What in the hell am I going to do? Just what the_ **_hell_ ** _am I going to do?’_

Mike wishes he could say he was strong and drove those three days in complete sanity. That he was a hero, held his head up and planned ways to end The Tall Man and that this would magically turn him back into a _real boy,_ someone who bled red, had a sane and stable mind, his mom, dad and brother sprang up from the grave and everything ended happily ever after. That perhaps he woke up, and it was all just a dream.

But no, Michael fled because there was nothing left to do. He was a danger to his friends, what was left of them, and a pawn for the enemy. Mike kept telling himself if he got ahead far enough, that he could at least plan something or get in touch with Reg somehow. Maybe some hospital somewhere could tell him just what the fuck he was, tell him he was off his meds and tell him he was wrong the whole time. Or perhaps hand him an Xray with a complete, metal sphere where his brain used to be. The doctor would be The Tall Man the whole time- and he’d be-

_‘Be what? What is he even doing with me? He won’t tell me, he talks in riddles…’_

He didn’t sleep for those three days. His body probably didn’t need it now anyway. Although he didn’t get as tired as he felt he should be, a nap wasn’t something he felt he could do without. Yet it didn’t matter, he couldn’t sleep, he had to run. He had to get as far away as possible, in case… in case something happened. Less casualties, less deaths because of him.

Oddly enough he found his hunger had also abated, Mike would feel as though he _needed_ something sweet, something high in carbs perhaps, but besides that it was something he no longer felt he required. The same was said of water, although he did have to stop twice at a gas station to fill up. He had gone inside, quickly drank from the water fountain then proceeded to fill the tank and speed off. Although he couldn’t risk getting pulled over, he didn’t have any money. He had to admit it was funny, if they ran those plates they would most likely show up stolen. 

It had helped his dry mouth, either way. Drinking now felt odd, his throat and stomach now more like a sponge that absorbed things as they passed. It felt unsettling for something so simple to change, he wondered now what to do with himself, all this time spent not sleeping, eating, drinking or even taking a piss- perhaps he should spend it keeping himself warm.

Even then, when the nights in the desert were cold, he would crank the heat up and blast it. His pallor in those gas stations were horrible, the air conditioning and lighting both making him look like a walking corpse. The heat of the daytime desert he had since driven into was relieving, he would exhale and shiver as the noonday sun would heat up the car. He felt at home, comfortable for the first time since… Since he became whatever he was now.

_‘Why didn’t he try the desert first.’_ He had wondered. ‘ _Why Oregon? The winters are cold and the summers are short. What the hell did he do in the winter, anyway? Did he just never leave that mortuary and crank the heat up?’_

Every time he gave a thought to who or what he was, he scaled it back. As if not thinking about it would somehow stop it from happening. He hadn’t seen The Tall Man since he fled, neither in those gas stations or alongside the road. At least he didn’t have to stop and go to the bathroom anymore, he supposed that made things less antagonistic. If Reggie had been here, he was sure they would have to stop for some sexy hitchhiker or any female ass in general. He loved the man but truly, he needed to get his priorities straight. He couldn’t help but wonder where they may be had they not picked up “Alchemy”, another Tall Man in disguise. 

It gave him thought that perhaps he should let Reggie know what was going on. He had never spoken to him telepathically like he could with Liz, but he could at least try. It was in the dead of night that he delivered a message, that he had been driving south-east three days and how little he had seen. He had tried to steer clear of cities, but any small town he drove through had been sparsely populated or just plain dead. He knew The Tall Man had something to do with it. 

Just how far had he gone in those two years he was in a coma?

_'Or are you just losing your mind, Michael?’_ He gave pause. ‘ _Maybe this is all just a dream, maybe you just need to wake up?’_

Micheal firmly fixed his jaw in such a fashion that he now sported an under-bite. If he was still dreaming, let it be a good one. He reminisced back to when he was a boy, the last day free of the evil mortician, the day before he arrived back in town. It was the end of summer, fall quickly approaching as the cool begin to set in the air. Soon school would start back up, and he’d be kept away from his brother, his last family left. He chased down Reggie’s ice cream truck and clambered onto it, opening the back hatch quietly and thieving an ice cream bar, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He often wondered if Reggie knew, if all these years he was wondering why his stock was always light. It made him smile, even now.

The next day is when he realized it had all begun. His brother had been teaching him how to drive in the ‘Cuda, wind in their hair, a bright and sunny day as could possibly be. They passed Billy, a classmate of his, walking his dog without a leash. Billy and his dog were local celebrities, the collie being so adept at following his boy around that they let him into all the stores around town, where he received a special treat. Something about it this time made Mike nervous however, but said nothing as Jody motioned a hello.

It was then when Mike had first seen The Tall Man, although he didn’t realize it at the time. In the bend of the upcoming road, a white hearse whipped around the corner and accelerated at a high rate of speed. He couldn’t say how fast exactly, but it was quick enough to make him notice. They were heading in opposite directions, and he was heading into town.

He wasn’t there to witness it, thank God, but he had heard from his parent’s conversations that the original owner of Morningside Funeral Services had returned after a long absence, and that he had killed little Billy’s dog. Not just killed, but turned into a practical stain on the road. It had the town in an uproar for all but a few days, when Billy’s dad personally visited the place to demand an apology. Supposedly, he didn’t get it, but he did leave the place pale as a ghost, with a wad of cash. Needless to say, Billy got a new dog, and his dad never said a word to anyone about what happened in there. He could only guess. 

His services were ridiculously cheap, and soon other funeral homes couldn’t compete. Everyone went to him, and soon other places began losing money trying to stay in business, until they went under. Soon his stilted nature didn’t matter, for the price and level of quality he was considered the obvious choice. Seeing what had happened to the other towns along the way, it was obvious this had happened to them all. He’d give it to the guy in this one thing, he sure knew how to corner the market.

He had drifted into oncoming traffic, a tractor trailer blew its horn as he drove down the other side of the road. Mike’s eyes widened when he realized he hadn’t even been paying attention, ‘ _Maybe I should sleep, but I won’t. I can’t.’_ He took a deep breath.

Something was in the back, he turned- nothing. An apparition, perhaps, but not the Tall Man, not anyone he knew, just a thing- Then he turned back, only to find an old woman in the passenger seat. A woman with black sunglasses; ‘ _her! It’s the fortuneteller! She told you, remember? She told you not to fear. It’s the killer’-_ She had been wrong, The Tall Man was the killer. Why didn’t she tell him that- fuck that why was she here? Why was she laughing at me? ‘ _I need help, help me for God’s sake!’_

She was gone. They were both gone. God help him. 

His head throbbed, he never remembered having such intense migraines before in his life. It terrified him to think what was really him had been reduced to a gold sphere in his cranium. He didn’t even know how he could still do anything, how it could control his movements. If he cut a finger off, would it turn into a fly? Could he be killed? Why did he need the sphere in his head if he was already changed?

After a few more miles, the throbbing increased. He felt his wound bleed again, and with some dawning horror, he knew the sphere was pushing outward on the wound. ‘ _What the fuck.’_ The unmistakable feeling of being watched peaked to a crescendo, and he knew he had no choice but to check. He adjusted the mirror to look for what he thought would be another hearse at his tailgate, but was shocked to discover The Tall Man _right there in his back seat_.

_‘Jesus FUCK.’_ He gasped and jumped at first, his fight-or-flight instincts still present, it seemed.

A few seconds later, he caught himself, and the anger of the past few days, the past few _years_ caught up with him. 

“No.” 

He wasn’t getting him, he wasn’t going to let this happen. Not without struggling to his last breath. 

“Yes, boy.” ‘ _Oh, fuck you.’_

Before The Tall Man could enact whatever plan he had, Mike attempted every way he could to derail it. He stomped on the brakes, waiting and expecting to feel the car come to a sudden halt. However, it didn’t, it felt as though the brake mechanism had completely failed. Then he tried to steer it off the road, but that too was disengaged. Opening the door, breaking the windows, once _again_ trying to rail the car off the road-

He let go, the wheel made small movements on it’s own. It was driving him.

“The coach will drive itself.”

Perhaps it was meant to be some way to comfort him, for whatever reason Mike couldn’t guess. In the end there was one conclusion Mike could glean from it, and that was he was being taken somewhere.

The Tall Man liked to toy with his victims, that much was true. It was probably why he was even still alive, if you could call this living. Or whatever he was now. It seemed to be more obvious than ever that Mike he was beginning to take more risks. He could have driven into that truck back there, splattered a big yellow stain on its front grill. What would he have done, then? Did he know, did he choose to show up and escort him the rest of the way? The rest of the way where?

Most of all, it angered him. Besides being asleep in a hospital bed for two whole years, he had gone a whole three days without seeing that tall prick. Despite the transformation occurring inside of him, he had experienced a sense of peace out on the road. He had never driven this long, this straight. Memories of childhood, before _he_ came, flooded back. He learned to drive in a Hemi ‘Cuda with his brother by his side. The boy had since learned that the cars were rare commodities now, it made him all the more depressed Jody’s car had gone up in flames back in Perigord. Reggie’s convertible Hemi ‘Cuda was a decent replacement, he supposed.

“Damn you to hell.” Mike shook his head at the necromancer in his back seat. He didn’t care anymore. He can’t kill me anyway, right? ‘ _Maybe he should.’_

Then he smirked, “Not possible.” 

What the fuck did that even mean? Goddamn it. 

“Where are you taking me?”

Mike needed an answer, _something_ from all of this. Clearly he was taking him somewhere, his ambition to drive somewhere less populated and warmer, rockier had struck him as odd, and yet he did it. He needed to flee _somewhere_ after all. 

“Where you belong,”

_‘Where I belong? Back in Oregon, with my family- with my friends at least, asshole.’’_

He paused, is that where he belonged? Really? With people that could abandon him at a moment’s notice? That could die?

“I know this process may seem… confusing, this… evolution as you prepare for passage.”

What the… was The Tall Man actually trying to relate to him? Comfort him? Passage? To where- and _evolution_? Is that what he called this? Is that what he called having his skull cut apart and brain wrenched from his skull? 

His own response surprised him, he needed to remind The Tall Man he wasn’t some fair maiden to be kidnapped. He had his own soldiers in this fight.

“I still have a friend. He’ll follow me and find me.” 

_'Reggie.’_ Mike reminded himself. ‘ _He’ll move mountains for you, Mike. Don’t forget that.’_

It disturbed the boy more than he would like to admit, but The Tall Man smirked at that.

“You have no-one… but _me.”_

Mike visibly quivered, giving The Tall Man a look that could kill as he bit his tongue. But _him_? Since when was he even remotely on his side? The idea made his stomach churn, that for even the briefest of moments he was something the alien coveted. Was it just a jab? Was Reggie dead? He had so many questions but the response was so odd, disturbing, and insulting he found himself tight-lipped instead.

The Tall Man opened the coffin and disappeared inside. Apparently the big fucker could just manifest himself wherever he wanted. It made him all the more uncomfortable, and realized that he could never really be safe. What the fuck was he gonna do, escape on a bike?

After a few minutes he had crawled back and checked said casket out himself. The red glow, however, was disconcerting to say the least. Part of him said it would have been better than being trapped in a car on it’s way to God-knows-where, part of him knew this led to The Red Planet, and that The Tall Man would most likely be there, along with possibly other members of his kind.

After staring at the blinding red glow for longer then he’s like, he decided dying later was better than dying now. 

It was odd, he never even remembered falling asleep. He had crawled back up-front when he continued watching the road. Part of him was curious where this was, where he would ‘belong’, part of him knew he was better off up front where he could grab the wheel if the moment presented itself. Watching the road and being unable to drive made his eyes heavy, all the while continuing to see signs for Death Valley National Park. It was supposed to be the hottest place in the country. Suddenly it began to make sense.

‘ _Where I belong?’_

He cursed himself for doing something as stupid as falling asleep while he was under the watchful eye of The Tall Man, a prisoner really. Yet he supposed it didn’t matter, what was he going to do, anyway? The sun wasn’t that high, so he guessed late morning. Mike had wondered how long he had been slumbering behind the wheel of an overheated Cadillac hearse, if it had just happened or he was sitting there in the hot sun baking for hours. He could smell the engine from here, smoke pouring from under the hood. It must have been pushed to the very limit and perhaps ran through its oil. Or maybe The Tall Man had intentionally ruined it so he couldn’t restart it. 

Stumbling out, the throbbing in his head returned as he held it in frustration. Christ, how could he be both himself and something trying to break it’s way through his own head? What was it, the Id, the Ego or the SuperEgo? Which one was it, and which one was he? Or was he all of them?

Would any one of them die in a desert without food and water? Despite being in what was apparently Death Valley for hours, he wasn’t thirsty or hungry. Having both would have been nice, but he was more concerned about the very present pain beating in his head, the gash in his skull, and the valley of rocks in front of him. He was in the hottest, lowest, driest place he could imagine. That was, second only to…

_'Where I belong?’_

The Red Planet. That’s what this place reminded him of. There were tall rocks as far as his eyes could see, the heat comforting him far more hindering. Even being clad head to toe in a jacket and black shirt and slacks, he felt like if anything he could be even warmer. If the clouds were a redder, he swore it would be a dead ringer for an image that dwelled in his very bones.

It surprised him how quickly he set out. Even with the pain and throbbing, it seemed secondary to exploring the familiar land. He pressed himself between the rocks and walked, feeling the boulders on either side as the texture made both his inner boyhood and newly transformed self giddy with delight. He could hear and see glimpses of the dwarf-creatures scuttering about. He did not fear them this time- they were here just to keep watch, and the fact that he _knew_ that was both disconcerning yet comforting. 

Every instinct was telling him to crush himself between the cracks and take refuge, or to sun himself on a rock and rest. He realized these were rather reptilian thoughts- were they a result of the change? He had to admit this was the most fun he had in awhile. He had no idea how hot and terrifying this place would be to his before self, but being resilient and fear-free was a nice change.

_‘Where I belong…’_

The thought made the shivers roll up his back and his arm skin break into goosebumps. He stopped climbing, walking and hopping further along the trails and sat on a rock as he overlooked the valley for a moment. He had been there for what had to be hours. So far The Tall Man hadn’t been here, and hasn't shown up. Mike was mostly concerned with exploring his surroundings at first, but realized there wasn’t anything for miles. In one direction, rocks, in another a dry plain that stretched even further. 

Mike kicked his legs as he took a deep breath and looked over the valleys, noting the sun would be going down in another few hours. What was his plan? What was he going to do?

_‘Maybe I could just jerk off? See if that still works like it used to?’_

He smirked and laughed in his head, yeah maybe not. However the thought brought something up he would rather not have. Sure, when he was younger the thought wasn’t nearly as looming, but now it was a certainty. He could never meet anybody, never fall in love, have a wife… have children. Even if he was somehow able to kill The Tall Man, who’s to say that would fix him? Nothing was going to turn him into a real man again, take the sphere out of his head and give him his real brain, blood and tissue back. He didn’t know how he got like this, but he sure as hell knew he couldn’t just go back. Could he even… have kids, now? Have a son or daughter? Was he sterile now? 

This sudden realization brought a flood of tears to his eyes, blinking them away as he took a deep breath, steadying himself, trying to remind him that he had to keep a clear head. Would he even want to have kids? As he was? Did he want to spread… whatever he was? 

His core numbed, glancing out at the sun as he felt himself disassociate. Just like that he realized he had another new talent, feeling himself float over the desert and rotated around to see his own sorry self on the rock. This frightened him and he inhaled out of shock, realizing this wasn’t just some vision or hallucination, he was astral projecting.

With anger, he grabbed a nearby rock and furiously cut it into his left wrist. The pain was too much for him to bear and he ceased once he drew blood. He yelped and dropped the rock, watching with facinsation as the thick, yellow ichor squirted out with some vigor but quickly ceased, its thick and quickly- clotting nature on display as he analyzed it. Red blood would have kept flowing, he knew, would have dribbled down his arm. 

He kept an eye on it, seeing how long it would take to close. The Tall Man didn’t show up, which made him curious- what would it take? He needed him alive, or did he? Was he watching him now? 

The smell in the air was the most curious part. Red blood smelled of copper and tasted like a dirty penny. Mike had hurt himself enough times in the past to know those things well enough. Yet this smelled closer to antifreeze, like when opening a new bottle. Suddenly it made sense- sugars, glycol, it helped to deal with the cold. 

Already the wound was closing, right as he watched, and he had to wonder why the cut in his skull was continuing to open when The Tall Man was around. He had to guess the sphere in his head beating against the inside didn’t help. The back of his mouth began to water, and a craving for sugary candies and sweets pervaded his senses. What he’d do for a donut or chocolate bar- then he felt his stomach squeeze and before he knew it, he was licking at his own wound, finding the taste foriegn but somehow just as he was expecting it to be. 

_‘But not quite as sugary as it should be. It’s also missing something…’_

A total of five seconds elapsed before he lurched and began to heave, the full realization dawning on him that he had just licked his arm clean of his own alien secretions. His stomach didn’t quite work the way that it used to, and found he was incapable of vomiting now. He spit up what he could, and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Mike sat there until the sun began to set, his brain fuzzy, thoughts jumbled as he tried to contemplate his new reality.

_‘What the hell am I…’_

It wasn’t until the sun sank beneath the horizon and the very tinges of chill began to crystallize his cells and send his system into a panic. Every instinct from alien to human told him it was long since time to seek shelter. He ignored it for a good few seconds, but it sounded all too good to ignore for long. Standing up, he breathed out and watched his exhale turn to vapor already, distraught that it wasn’t even that cold up here. He hoped it would be warmer in the valley where the car sat. A goat may be slightly envious of how he hopped down from the rocks in such haste. 

Mike ran to the car where he felt warmer already, sat inside and gathered his thoughts for a good minute. It wasn’t very comfortable up here, and he sure as hell couldn’t rest knowing the coffin that could possibly transport The Tall Man directly to him was sitting back there the whole time. He got back out and opened the back, pausing a second when he realized he had never really unloaded a casket before in his life. 

_‘Well, tonight’s a night a firsts, isn’t it? Take life by the horns, Mikey.’_

Grabbing the handlebars before he could stop himself, he yanked it back and was surprised how easy it was thanks to the rollers at the bottom. Quarter of the way out and he stopped, realizing he should probably check it first before yanking the whole thing out. 

_‘If he jumps out while I’m doing this I swear I’m gonna fucking lose it...’_

He opened the top half, expecting either nothing or some hellmouth he would now have to deal with. Instead he was met with… a suit? It wasn’t there back when he looked inside before, which meant _he_ had to have transported it there recently. 

_‘Out of all the things you send me, you couldn’t have sent some water, some beer, or a fucking candy bar?’_

Mike grabbed it by the hanger, twisting it around and holding it aloft. He looked it up and down, indeed the exact same as The Tall Man’s suit, complete with red tie tack, but with what had to be Mike’s sizing. It wasn’t the suit so much as the message it was sending, that this change was happening and could not be stopped, that he might as well accept it. Get ready, get dressed, join him by his side. 

_‘You gotta be shitting me…’_

With disgust, he threw it back in the casket, slamming the lid shut.

_‘No.’_

Completing the process, he yanked the casket from the back and let it fall to the ground. He thought to continue searching the back, opening all the compartments and finding a variety of things that he could find a use for. There were candelabras with candles and matches, a large rope that was kept with the spare tire and some flares, a large notepad and pens, but sadly nothing that would make rest more comforting. A blanket especially would have been helpful.

At the very least, he decided he could write some things out, rest and get some plans ready for tomorrow, if tomorrow came. He set up the candelabra and candles, lighting them all as he watched the flame dance. In his mind he tried to formulate a way to get The Tall Man to show up to this damn playing board he himself had set. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, here he was like a fat fucking Thanksgiving turkey and yet he stayed his hand. 

His eyes traveled over to the rope, and he swallowed.

_‘Would he let me die? What if I… Did it myself? Could he stop me? Would he even want to?’_

A dark road, but not one he hadn’t ever entertained before.

_'It would be better to die than to live like this. Like… Something not human, like one of them, one of_ **_him_ ** _.’_

Mike grabbed the rope, taking a look at how long it was and had to try and imagine what a noose would look like, what kind of knot he would need.

_‘....Can I even die? Did he take that away from me, too?’_

He scowled down in anger as he began to make the hangman’s knot, ‘ _No,’_ he thought, the loop forming as his hands worked, _‘It’s my life, and I’m gonna end things on my terms.’_

Throwing the finished noose to the side, he grabbed the notebook and sat against the side. Now that he had made the decision, he felt surprisingly peaceful. It has to be this way, it was that simple. He didn’t know if he’d see his brother on the other side, but his parents may very well be there. He remembered his father’s empty vault in the mausoleum, but never checked his mother’s. Maybe Liz would be there? He would finally be free from the terrors of The Tall Man, from worrying about the loss of everyone and the gaping pain in his heart that never stopped.

Reaching for the notebook, he decided he would make a will. It was a funny notion, he realized. Mike literally owned not a damn thing, not even the clothes on his back. He was pretty sure everything he had to wear was given to him by Reggie and were old hand-me-downs. His parent’s property wasn’t his anymore, his brother’s car was now wreckage. His eyes stung but he stopped, taking a deep breath.

_‘Fine,’_ He decided, _‘Then don’t let it be a list of demands… Let it be a message.’_

Reggie was out there, somewhere, he could feel it. Either The Tall Man lied to him or he didn’t consider him an actual threat. Either way he was coming to help him, he wasn’t that far away. He addressed it to him, making it clear that he was going to drive The Tall Man out, and try to take him down with him.

Of course, he left out the part that he would be committing suicide the next day. He would string the rope over a tree or something like it and with any luck he would snap his neck and kill him too quickly to be stopped. Maybe if The Tall Man did try to stop him he could kill him as well. It was a shit plan by all means, but the last one he could come up with in a place like this. He had no weapons, and even if he did, he knew killing that tall bastard never worked, at least in every way he could think of.

The sound of those dwarf creatures could be heard on the roof of the car, but he paid them little mind. Not in a million years would they be allowed to harm him. They were here for his benefit, it seemed. If Reggie did show up, he was sure they wouldn’t particularly approve. 

Despite hours of self-loathing and second thoughts, he had cemented his plan for the next day, barring any other events. He supposed The Tall Man could very well come for him in his sleep, rip the sphere from his head and disappear into the night, but he could have done that last night as well. The Tall Man was quite the busy bee these days, it seemed; and Mike did very much not want to be alone with his thoughts in the back of the stationary hearse. 

He made a mad dash outside, hearing the dwarf things scatter off like raccoons from a garbage can. In the very least he wished he could have seen some normal animal life, like a coyote or an armadillo. Christ, if he was going to die here the least he could experience is something alive.

Dragging the casket away a good twenty feet, he dropped it and once again checked inside. It was odd to not experience much exertion from such activity. Micheal wasn’t a big guy, never had the chance to really get bigger, being in a nuthouse or hospital tended to make that difficult. Yet here he was, hauling caskets across the desert. Then he remembered how The Tall Man had picked up a loaded casket and shoved it back into a hearse with little effort; and realized the answer to that. It also disturbed him, and stopped thinking about it very quickly.

In haste, he snatched the pillow from the casket, giving it a sniff test- well it didn’t smell like a corpse, anyway. He supposed this casket wasn’t used, not yet. Although with The Tall Man he had no idea what he did with all those used coffins, or if just reused them. Fucking gross, either way. 

Mike was beyond the point of caring. He was going to die tomorrow. To think, that was his best case scenario. Either way he had experienced far worse things then sleeping on a coffin pillow, so fuck it. He hurried back, the real cold of the desert creeping into him fast. Each breath was like daggers, stabbing his lungs. On that night when The Tall Man chased him to the mine shaft it had been cold as could be, and yet he seemed more ready to eviscerate him then ever. 

_‘Because he was having fun.’_ The realization struck, _‘Remember when you were a kid, Mikey? Mom called you inside but you were too busy making forts in the snow? You couldn’t even feel it, not until she brought you in- you couldn’t feel your fingers! She made such a fuss.’_

Opening the back door to the hearse, he closed it and sat back inside, smiling as he remembered memories from happier times. He propped up his head with the pillow as he lay down sighing loudly as he got comfortable. Not one article of clothing came off, both from the need to stay warm and his need to be ready. It didn’t matter, nothing seemed oddly out of place.

It was a miracle that he was able to even sleep. He was alone in what had to be thousands upon thousands of miles in the frigid desert, with The Tall Man possibly watching or hunting him, maybe both. His minions on his roof and hiding in the hills. The anxiety over what was to happen to him both tomorrow and forever after that, and the fact that he still didn’t _need_ to sleep, and yet his eyes grew heavy. Perhaps it was out of habit, or maybe it was his stress plummeting into fatigue after all this time.

He stared at the inky blackness in the windows, wondering how he went from chasing his brother around Morningside and China Grove, to attempting to sleep in the back of a broken-down hearse in the middle of Death Valley. He wished he could say that was just his life, and yet he knew ‘life’ didn’t have a whole lot to do with it. The finality of it was somehow comforting, and his eyes slid shut, allowing him to enter a restful sleep.

At some point in the night, his dreams ranged from something less upsetting to something that shook his entire form, his body jerking and eyes moving under their lids in REM sleep. The scene felt violently, shockingly real, the color desaturating from the world as the noises of gun and cannon fire burst in his skull. Even from his vantage point, wherever that was, bullets ricochet frighteningly close. A fog of war that stunk of blackpowder- different from gunpowder like the weapons he was used to, instead it smelled acrid and scorched. Like it had been cooked at the bottom of the pan and left to burn long after the water had been vaporized away. It made the hairs on his neck stand up, his body still possessing the ability to tell him what was wrong.

_‘Good ol’ reptile brain. Still have some sense in you…’_

Like a curious spirit, he took a wandering, swooping eye into what had to be the fog of war. He heard men shouting in anger and the clop of hooves. Manure and the coppery scent of blood wafted in from in front of him, and beheld a man on a horse- wait no, not just any kind of man, a gentleman clad in the blue Union regalia of the American Civil War. He didn’t have much time to be amazed, the horse avoiding him dramatically as the soldier yanked the reigns.

_‘...the fuck did that tall bastard take me this time?’_

He continued, the dream pulling him through the smoke and into a camp. The yelling went on, somewhere nearby a battle was taking place. The bullets buzzed by somewhere very close, so close he winced despite traveling in a fashion that didn’t include his physical body. Two young men ran past him, one drawing a saber and running by into what had to be a nearby battle. He wished he paid more attention in school, knew the battle being fought- knew the regiment, _something_.

There was a man, somehow amongst the carnage, writing papers on a desk. He did so with great duress, mindful of the fight nearby. Two men, one with his arm in a sling were speaking to him. ‘ _Is this a hospital? Did he receive treatment? Or is he seeking it?’_

It was then when the civil war’s greatest known infamy became apparent. It started with the smell, the sound of buzzing flies filtered out through the mayhem. There were bodies stacked left and right, nearly always in a pile as if to gather for future use. For burial… Or-

Mike’s vision took him forward through what were rows of coffins. Some on the ground, some placed upright. The men in the wooden boxes almost always looked asleep, embalmed carefully to sustain them until they could be sent home.The realization chilled him, even while still asleep.

It wasn’t a hospital. It was a mortuary.

A tent, before he could process it he was inside. A boy, or was it a man? Regardless, he was a soldier- lay on the slab, his uniform removed, one suspender off his shoulder while his distressed undershirt belayed the poor, exhausted nature of his character, and it was then that he noticed.

_‘It’s me. That’s_ **_me._ ** _Why would I be here? Why am I dead? Why-’_

It was _him._ He was here, too. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, he’s followed him everywhere in his life, why not the past? The Tall Man stood at the soldier's side, clad in thick rubber gloves and apron, adjusting his primitive formaldehyde machine. Nothing like the one he used to kill him in Perigord, this was a simple jar with a rubber squeeze bulb and tubing attached to the stopper. 

Although he knew it wasn’t formaldehyde so much as a diluted concoction of the Tall Man’s own blood, used to reanimate the dead once they were done playing possum for the funeral. It looked to be operated by squeezing a bulb and suctioning the fluid out, and he… Oh god no, not him. Please...

He wanted to scream but he was a casual observer, not even a being of conscious thought in this realm. Instead, he watched as The Tall Man tilted his doppleganger’s head gently- _fucker-_ into a more amicable position, and gleefully grabbed a long, thin trocar that made Mike seize up in abject horror. It was attached to the machine, and knew that wherever it was going, he would receive a heavy dose in that particular area.

The Tall Man placed his hand on his double’s head with more care then he gave his living victims, inserted the metal trocar _up his nose,_ up, _up,_ until _CRACK,_ the bursting of the thin skull layer present in his sinuses was broken into. Disgust and pure horror shook him in waves, and continued to do so as his doppleganger’s eyes widened- _he wasn't dead, but even_ **_he_ ** _thought he was._

Mike watched in disbelief as The Tall Man’s brow actually furrowed in surprise. He had not expected this. He pushed in enough to reach the brain and held him down with all his might, smirking gleefully at what had to be a combination of cruel delight and the attempt at a possible new experiment. Mike’s copy screamed horribly as the fluid was pumped into his brain, watching as a simple bystander as an exact replica of him was embalmed alive. Why? Why was he seeing this? What did this mean-

Sunlight. His eyes opened. He was awake. The Tall Man had not taken him in his sleep, but a creeping, itching sensation plagued his right nostril.

He had once told Reggie that his dreams usually came true. His dreams were always different, they always meant something. 

This time, however, he hoped he was wrong. 

* * *

When he stepped out of the hearse, his head had started to pulse again. It was such a disconcerting feeling that he began to grow anxious at the coming hours. At least at night he had hope that it had gone dormant. Although he couldn’t say he knew what “it” was. Was it himself, or something entirely new? Was his head ready to “give birth” to an entirely new being? Was he merely the complex incubator?

The sound of a familiar and dreadful humming had interrupted his bleak thoughts. He followed it with trepidation and walked towards the expected chrome pillars sitting alone in the desert. The fact that these were already here and there was no Tall Man in sight made things even worse. What game was he playing? What experiment was he running? What, exactly, was he sending his way? The terror clutched at what was left of his heart, God knew how many chambers beat in his breast, now. Hanging his head, he knew he had to go forward with his plan. This was really happening. ‘ _I’m fucked, I’m really fucked.’_

It had taken a good thirty minutes to find something to stand on out in the bare-ass desert. Someone had dumped some apple carts up the road from the car, and affixing the rope in a way to keep it balanced took another twenty. A dead tree was surprisingly easy to find, he didn’t even know trees could exist out here.

All the while he focused on the task at hand, like he was incapable of recognizing he was setting his own doom. It was what he had to do in order to save himself, he said to the nagging doubters in his head. Maybe it was the gold sphere trying to stop him? He didn’t know anything for sure anymore, he couldn’t even trust what he saw with his own eyes, what was to say his thoughts were even his own anymore?

Nobody stopped him, which had been his secret hope all along. Not that he would admit it even to himself, ‘ _He might be able to hear my thoughts, I don’t know what he can and can’t do anymore.’_

A deep breath, he walked forward, gently stepping onto the end of the flimsy, rotting carton and ensuring he was balanced. The noose was thick and well-constructed, it would do its job without snapping, that was for sure. He couldn’t find a tree tall enough to snap his neck when he kicked the carton away, which made him all the more nervous. Nobody wanted to die in agony. Especially when he needed to go quickly, far too quickly for even death himself to stop him.

He took the noose, steeled his resolve and put it around his neck before he could stop himself. The material was rough and irritating on his skin, and as he cinched the knot down he felt it pressing painfully on his hyoid bone. Something began to float up to the surface, a memory, a familiar sensation tickling the cortex and crying out to stop. That this would not be pleasant, not in the least. He ignored it, taking a deep breath and kicking the carton out so that he would swing freely, his oxygen cut off and he instantly regretted everything. He reached out to the tree to hold himself up, finding no purchase to end the misery.

The pain was crippling. The memory that both was and wasn’t screamed forth and pulsed again. A sun burning out, his stature short again as he realized he was recalling a memory he wasn’t even sure was really his. It reminded him of how he had tried to kill The Tall Man using the mine shaft, only this time- yes, The Hanging Tree! That was another idea of Jody’s, the old Hanging Tree up on Jedda’s Hill, they used it to hang prisoners until it wasn’t exactly approved of anymore. Kids dared each other to spend the night there, it was supposedly haunted. Jody was sure he could snag him with a noose and hoist him up. He had played a prank last Halloween on them all with a dummy using the same process. 

Wait, did that happen? He didn’t know anymore. All he knew was that his brain was going twenty different ways. One felt his body scream out for oxygen and lungs burn painfully, his neck stretch and vertebrae pop with the weight. Yet… He wasn’t dying. How long had it been? He didn’t know- minutes, hours? Time seemed distorted, and the sensation of the agony, the humility of hanging by his neck in the desert tricked the “false” memory again, much to his chagrin.

Then, he saw it. _Him._ He stood out, far, far away, he was sure of it. He was watching him. The long, wavy form of The Tall Man in the distance, obscured by the heat of the Death Valley’s sun.

His eyes focused, painfully, regretfully, mournfully. ‘ _I fucked up, I fucked-’_

_“Where do you think you’re going, boy?”_

Not a word was passed by mouth, he was sure of it. The words echoed in his head, he couldn’t block them out if he tried.

_“Death is no escape from_ **_me_ ** _.”_

Cold fingers seized his heart as he was drawn back to The Hanging Tree. Yes, he was chasing him, he was sure of it. He turned around, watching his tall and lanky form step out from the bushes and exhale a fine mist. _A smile. He’s having a blast._ A black-handled dagger was in his hand, he would slice him down the middle if he grabbed him, he could practically feel it.

He took off towards the tree, running beside it directly where he had practiced earlier. Just like before, with perfect synchronicity, Jody looped the lanky form behind him and pulled it taught. He heard the Tall Man let out a yelp, _yes!_ And hoist him into the air as the 'Cuda’s power pulled him up the tree. He turned to watch as he helplessly flailed, dropping the dagger as his hand went for his neck to dislodge the painful noose. 

Jody stepped out of the 'Cuda holding the rope, smiling and triumphant. Tying it to a nearby stump, they both jumped in and peeled out. In the rear-view mirror they could see him hanging there helplessly. They didn’t check to see if he was dead, at the time they thought him far more mortal than now. He remembered feeling happy at the win, but a nagging feeling pricked at the back of his head. The guy was a monster, but surely didn’t he at least deserve to not be on display? Doesn’t everyone? He was just hanging there, body rotting on a rope.

_“_ Sucker looked like a piece of wet laundry hanging from a clothesline _.”_

Jody had said with a laugh when he brought up cutting him down. Jody had clearly been drinking in celebration. He got him to agree to cut him down in the morning, he hoped it would assuage his conscience somewhat.

His mom was a big believer in a proper burial. Even for all the murderers and convicts in the world. She believed in doing the right thing even for all the wrong people. His mother tried to impress upon him and his brother both the proper morals, although in Mike’s case he knew she didn’t have the chance to teach him nearly enough. Yet it was the thought of his mother and her direct response had she been there, that began his doubts. 

It was later into the night and early into the next morning that he heard and felt it. A creeping sensation restricted his neck, making him shift in his sleep. A voice, ethereal and alluring filtered into his open window. It was always so hot in his room, even when autumn began and the nights grew cold. Although he was sure he would have heard it had the window been closed. 

_“Cuuuuut meeeee doooowwwnn, boooyyyy… Cuuuut meeeee dooowwwwwwwnnnn….”_

He was smart enough to know this wasn’t the assuaging voice of guilt or his imagination. Although he was also cognizant to know that it meant The Tall Man was in fact still alive, and was crying for help. Did anyone really deserve to hang from a noose, constantly asphyxiating until the sun rose? He tried to tell himself this was the man who tried to kill him and Jody, killed Reggie, and did _something_ to his parent’s bodies- and yet all he could do was imagine himself hanging from that noose, crying for help.

Mike couldn’t have slept if he wanted to. He got up and got dressed, sneaking out while his brother slept away his inebriation. To think he almost had a few himself, but it didn’t feel right. Reggie was dead, and he blamed himself. His stomach was unsettled, his nerves shot. ‘ _Your heart was jumping and your breath was short, just like having a rope around your neck-’_

The walk wouldn’t be long, so he opted to hike there instead of making noise using the car or his dirt-bike. On top of that the moon was full and bright, and he swore he got there faster than he expected. The creeping and constricting around his neck increased, his breath puffing out faster but shorter, but he kept reminding himself it was just guilt, just all in his head. He approached carefully, just in case this was a trap, only to find The Tall Man still hanging there, limp, just like the wet piece of laundry Jody described. 

A sudden snap of a branch moving, a violent turn of an angry, trans-dimensional being swinging around and scowling at him, the anger _radiating_ off of him in waves.

“CUT ME DOWN, _BOY_!”

_Christ!_ He visibly reacted, but he remained steadfast, the compassion draining from him.

“N...No!”

“Cut... Me…. _Down!_ ” He repeated, a direct order.

“No!” Like hell he was.

His defiance seemed to surprise and frustrate The Tall Man, apparently he had expected his one-sided demand to work for some reason. He scowled, considering his next option.

“I _won’t_ hurt you...” 

Real convincing, asshole. Although his expression was true enough. What confused him the most, however, was how he had just assumed Mike was concerned about his own safety instead of the greater picture. He threw up his hands and looked around in order to indicate his concerns.

“You’re killing the world!” 

Indeed, Mike knew now that The Tall Man was a plague to the world, but even back then his actions were wiping out his small town person by person. Let go, he would continue his spree, he was sure of it.

The Tall Man’s face changed, one of an exaggerated caricature as he indicated his new understanding.

“I’ll go away… And never come back.”

Mike didn’t know why that convinced him, except that no matter how smart a kid he was, he was still a kid. One who was still so very trustworthy and caring, and one who really did just want this all to end. They might not be able to kill The Tall Man, but if he left on his own accord, that would solve the problem, wouldn’t it?

“...You will?” He could scarcely believe it, the perfect deal if he knew one.

“Yeeeess…”

Fuck, the adult eyes looking back noticed his exaggerated grin and snake-like hiss. He was enjoying this, too, and he hated everything from his own naivete to the sort of dastardly glee his rival took in his coercion. He couldn’t possibly have had the sphere in his head back then, could he? Is that why he was so easily manipulated?

Hanging from that noose, he pointed smoothly at the dagger lodged in the ground at his feet. He surprised himself with how excitedly he snatched up the blade, but then he was a boy after all, and the opportunity to use something sharp wasn’t one he was going to pass up.

He watched him with great interest as he sprung up the tree and climbed to the top, where the rope braced against the branch. If he cut up here, he would be as far from The Tall Man as possible. With fastidious glee and a desire to be rid of him as soon as possible, he cut the rope and he fell with a satisfying snap. He landed surprisingly gracefully, ripped the noose from his neck and spun around- it had become obvious that The Tall Man wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to stay here, and he had just let him loose upon the world.

“Boy!”

A rush of light. A strained snap. A sudden slam to the ground. Mike, now a young man again, fell to the dirt and lay there. The air returned to his lungs, but found his body did not gasp or strain for oxygen like he expected it to. Most of the pain came from his neck, and that was pulsing just as in his… vision? Dream? Memory? Like his stomach, his lungs felt like a sponge, absorbing the air more than inhaling it. It disturbed him profusely, but still welcomed that he wasn’t actually dead. His plan had worked despite himself, he had lured The Tall Man out, and he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t sure yet if this was a plus or a minus.

It was then he realized that the rope didn’t snap on it’s own, The Tall Man had done it. Just like he suspected, he didn’t want him dead. Why? Why couldn’t he take the sphere in his head afterwards like all the others? Not that he wanted it, of course, but what was so special about him? He was just a boy from a small town in Oregon, for Christ’s sake. What had he done to deserve this?

Mike writhed and turned on his back, pulling the noose down to take a huge breath. His neck hurt like hell, he had no idea how long he’d been hanging there.

Footsteps. Very wide strides. Very recognizable footsteps at that.

A shadow fell on him, a tall shadow. Mike pushed himself up and scooted back. _He_ was there, blocking out the light. His expression was somewhat… kind? It was odd for him, for certain. It immediately made him suspicious.

“I’ve been waiting for you… for a very _long_ time.”

_‘What the hell does that mean? Christ I’m only 22, is that a long time? Or does he mean since he saw me last? No, this mother is older than dirt, a few days, a few years, centuries is nothing to him. What the fuck am I, then?’_

The confusion, the constant bullshit, the fact that he wouldn’t even try to _kill_ him anymore was infuriating. He grabbed his noose and wrenched it off his neck, casting it aside. Unfazed, the taller man continued.

“And no, you may not take your own life,” The Tall Man stated, with a smile, one that nearly seemed friendly, “That is my domain, exclusively.”

Mike couldn’t turn away the fact that he had been saved from suicide. Granted, it was a situation he had put himself in, and The Tall Man clearly needed him alive for some grand purpose. He didn’t feel gratitude per say, no camaraderie or appreciation, but something else. 

The fact that The Tall Man said his life was his domain only made the anger spike, that his life was not his own nor his property. Self-autonomy was gone, his freedom, his independence, nothing was his anymore. His body, flesh, mind and soul beholden to another. Yet it also did something he wasn’t expecting- comfort? His life had been saved, he had been protected, valued. Nobody could hurt him anymore. The best place to avoid the lion was in the belly of the beast itself.

_‘He won’t abandon you. Not like everyone else.’_

There was no sign of Reggie, Liz, Tim, Rocky, everyone he had met in the attempt to kill the very beast who saved his life- had left him. His brother was still MIA, his parents dead, they left him all alone. They didn’t care. Nobody cared.

“Come boy,” He shot out his hand to offer his assistance, a surprising gesture to the younger man. “We have things to do.”

_‘We have things to do.’_ The same words spoken to him two whole years ago after The Tall Man had murdered Reggie’s family, setting them out on a mission of revenge, with their ire still burning white and hot. How did he know? Or was it just a coincidence? Was he trying to appeal to his nature in much the same way?

He had never seen him look so friendly, feel so inviting. Something about him seemed… Right?

‘ _I’m supposed to go with him. This is how it needs to be.’_

Mike then found himself doing something he never thought he would, he considered it. The pull, the psychic strings that stitched them together tensed. 

Looking at his hand, he knew this was more than just an offer of assistance. If he took it, he would be willingly giving himself over to a force he couldn’t comprehend. Not even now. But would that be so bad? All the fighting would be over, he would have companionship and protection, he could see the far ends of time and space. Isn’t that what he always wanted? Back when he would read his sci-fi novels, dreaming of adventures that challenged his small-town, simple life?

Extending his hand, he reached forward to take his- but stopped. When he did so, The Tall Man’s smile faltered, and he got his answer.

_‘...No. Reggie isn’t gone, and neither am I, not yet.’_

And while Mike was still him, he wasn’t going to stop trying. 

The Tall Man was _pissed_ when Mike dropped his hand, his traditional scowl re-appearing. He wasn’t a naive little boy anymore. It was going to take more than a smile to get him to come along. An idea struck him, The Tall Man could make the dimensional forks appear wherever he wanted- why couldn’t he? He was one of them, right?

Mike looked into the distance, concentrating on the fork simply being there. It took a few seconds, but to his relief a bronze set of poles appeared. It had apparently surprised his rival as he looked away to take notice- giving Mike ample time to get up and dart towards them. The Tall Man didn’t give chase, didn’t react in anger- it was enough to make him look back.

“...Careful what you look for.”

As he darted through the poles, Mike didn’t think about anything in particular, just getting away. He couldn’t help but give The Tall Man’s words some thought, finishing what had to be the obvious last words of the proverb.

_‘You just might find it.’_

* * *

Walking through the spacegate in nearly every instance had been harrowing before. He had wound up on The Red Planet, gasping for breath, or in The Tall Man’s lair, or back with his friends, unexpected and running for his life. So when he walked through this time, the last thing he had expected had been an old laboratory, one whose time period he couldn’t place. 

This fork had been operated by two large, partially spheroid poles. It reminded him like something Nikola Tesla would make, or out of an old pulp science fiction magazine. The loudest sound was a low, varied hum, and the grinding of gears. A large machine operated the fork to his left, or at least gave it power. He could smell the ozone in the air, the potent aroma of chemicals and preservatives, most likely alcohol or arsenic- it hung low in the room.

There were tables lined with glasses and beakers, some filled with a yellow substance that he recognized. Several animal skulls, like lions or bears- decorated shelves, as did preserved specimens like butterflies and insects. One table housed a chemistry set with bottles and glass flasks, several tools and medical instruments like bone saws sat nearby. It gave him pause, and it then became obvious. This was The Tall Man’s lab, it had to be.

To the left was a small desk with written notes, some misplaced tools such as an old steel and glass syringe. Christ, even in this capacity it was terrifying. He immediately imagined it being used on him, held down and poked and sawed apart in every way possible. It wasn’t that far of a leap.

He backed up, taking in the small lab as he hit the table with his ass. It stopped him, turning around to get a better look at the chemistry set and writing desk. Everything told him to run, that he was nearby. That he was going to get him again. This time, however, it was going to work, he wasn’t going to show him any mercy this time.

The only door in the room lay ahead, and he took it quickly. To his pleasant surprise, he walked outward into a bright, sunny day. It made him stop, he smelled animals, like horses, like hay and even a scent of hot, crisp grass on a dry day. He had been in the sun all day, and yet this time it felt far more real, far more pleasant than everything on the other side of that spacegate.

It was then when something occurred to Mike; despite the evidence he just witnessed in the laboratory, this couldn’t possibly be where The Tall Man began. Wherever he went, death followed with him. It wasn’t just a motif, he was a thing that only reaped and didn’t sow. When he found a place he put down deep, all-consuming roots, and sucked that town dry. He had witnessed it with Reggie on the road, the way each town withered at his touch. The alien thing he was, surrounded himself with decay, mausoleums, and cemeteries. This place was full of life, he could tell right away. Yet, something hung in the air- ominous, foreboding, a shade of things to come.

He rounded the corner of the large building, expecting perhaps to come in contact with someone who would yield more answers. Surprisingly, he found himself tramping through a bed of flowers. They had been tended recently, not a dead leaf or petal amongst them. Even his mother’s flower keeping skills couldn’t match up, the smell prickling emotions he didn’t think he could deal with right now.

Looking up, he beheld a marvelous house. He didn’t say he was ever an expert of architecture, but he’d say it looked quite like an old Victorian abode. It had a lovely balcony and tower to the right, white exterior and red roof. It was like something from a Disney movie for Christ’s sake. He stopped and admired it for a moment, all the while not trusting everything he saw- it was too idyllic. Surely something horrible was bound to pop up at any moment.

The porch was inviting, reminding him of better summers and safer times. He climbed the small steps and found the floor gleefully quiet to sneak on. If something bad _was_ here, he didn’t want it to know. Rounding the corner he found a lattaced section of the porch, pleasantly covered in vines, and a red barn in the distance. Now he knew where the smell came from. Yet again, everything was unblemished, like a celebration of life.

Mike passed a door, looking in through the drapes but finding the view too obscured. Someone was here, he could tell now. Although that familiar sensation that he felt, the pull that existed when The Tall Man was near, was absent. Did he send himself somewhere where he didn’t exist?

Rounding the corner, carefully, slowly, he saw it; boots. Men’s boots, although he supposed if it _was_ The Tall Man that didn’t matter. He has proven his abilities to swap gender far too well enough. Yet something was oddly familiar about them, the dread crawling it’s way from out of his stomach.

Another step, another- cuff-links, red ones, red like the tie-tack _he_ wore, ‘ _Oh god it’s him. Shit. I’m fucked.’_

Suddenly, he poked his head out. It was him! Mike didn’t know what to do, run? Demand answers? He could try to stand and fight all day, but it would get him killed in the end- or rather enslaved. 

Except he didn’t look mean, or even ambivalent, he looked… happy? Excited?

“Can I assist you?”

_‘What the fuck?’_

“Have we met?” His eyes perked in slight recognition, or perhaps not. 

“I don’t believe so.” His voice lacked the grit he knew well. Like death itself speaking from the grave.

Micheal paused, something was off to say the least. He sounded like an old-fashioned gentleman and looked the part. He actually got up, and Mike could see that physically, he did indeed resemble the thing he knew as The Tall Man, but _felt_ nothing like him. It was then that the younger man noticed for the first time his ability to feel a sort of energy from living things, sensing a calm and loving nature of this _man,_ untainted by anything nefarious. 

He said nothing, still in a blind shock as he approached.

“Have you traveled far?”

Mike just stood there, dumbly staring like what he would later call ‘a fucking idiot’.

“Wouldn’t you like to sit down?” 

Not-Tall-man indicated towards a nearby seat, he kept reminding himself this was normal for the time. There were no cars, and he would have most likely been on a horse with his ass beat to hell when he got done with a long trip.

“Here, let me offer you some lemonade,” He jovially offered, and walked towards a table he hadn’t noticed until then, with a tall pitcher of lemonade, complete with real lemons.

Truth be told, a tall glass looked amazing right now, complete with all the sugar he had been craving. Yet his thirst was completely subverted by the events taking place and the complete shock at what he was witnessing.

“We don’t receive many visitors.” ‘ _Is this before Morningside was formed? Or China Grove?’_

Not-Tall-Man poured himself a glass as he remarked, “And your clothes are different… You’re not from around here.”

Mike watched as Not-Tall-man stood straight with his glass and looked him in the face, only to watch his expression change to that of shock and realization. Terror returned to clutch him in the heart- was he back? Was The Tall Man something that just… phased in and out of him? Like a ghost? Or some kind of demon?

“Did you make passage through the dimensional fork?”

Oh. It was… excitement? He knew about them, those poles back there weren’t just for show. Right here, whenever and wherever this was, he had developed his own spacegate. Was it the first one? He didn’t know, he would need more information.

“You’re _him,_ right?” He said with a reverence he couldn’t explain.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting the reply to be; after all, how did this man know who _him_ was? And yet he stood tall, and responded.

“Jebediah, Jebediah Morningside.” Mike felt things click in his head, that was the name of the ‘current curator’ for the mortuary back home. At least, until things went sideways nine years back. All these years, he inhabited the same man. He couldn’t begin to guess how he got away with that same identity for so long.

“I’ve been… waiting for someone… Someone like you-”

_I’ve been waiting for you… For a very long time-_

_I’ve been waiting-_

Jebediah approached him, with what was probably good intentions, but it didn’t matter. Mike was effectively now terrified and took several steps back.

“Jebediah!”

_Fucking Christ!_

He had no choice but to spin around, an old lady in a wheelchair sat there, her eyes shrouded with black sunglasses and- _it was her._ The fortune teller from back home, nine whole years ago. Terrie’s grandmother. What the actual fuck was she doing here? She knew Jebediah by name, was she a traveler too? Had she been this old, some creature from beyond the spacegate just like him? 

Jebediah had reacted by smiling and grabbing her hand fondly- no, they knew each other. Mike didn’t recall seeing a wedding band on his hand, while the fortune teller seemed to have numerous rings of different shapes. Was she a wife? A sister? 

It didn’t matter, he bolted, all the while thinking of one destination only, back to something he knew no matter how terrible. 

“Please don’t leave…!” 

He heard as he took off back where he came from, even as he made the turn around the deck, he heard him say there were things they desperately needed to know, and he heard the fortuneteller laugh again, like she did in the car. 

None of it made sense, and frankly it all wore on him. How much can one man take? How much until he cracked from all this pressure? The human mind craved stability, and the fact that he was still sane was no doubt the biggest thing in favor of him no longer being a human himself. 

He ran into the lab, and took a gentle step into the dimensional fork- shit wait, he hit the wall on the other side. At first he studied the poles until he realized he could no longer hear the humming, and turned his attention to the large machine nearby. He jumped up and turned a massive gear, starting the process as he flipped the huge switch nearby. The ozone returned to the air as a spark of electricity sizzled the atmosphere. Now he walked through, unimpeded. 

Mike hoped desperately he would be gone when he came back through. Although he was, he couldn’t take a breath of fresh air just yet. In his stead, twenty or so dimensional forks now stood, end to end and row to row. Tears formed in his eyes at this revelation. No matter how much he ran, he was going to get him. He would bring half his planet if he needed to, but it would happen.

The sphere in his head pushed at the opening in his skull, wanting to be born but not being strong enough to make its way through such a small space. 

Without thinking, he reached up and pushed it back in, this time distinctly hearing it’s low humming snuffed out by his own skull.

* * *

He found his way back to the valley of tall rocks, so high in some places it might as well have been a series of small canyons. The journey there had been done in a daze, the revelations he made stacking up end to end. He had attempted to kill himself in an effort to perhaps end his and The Tall Man’s lives, hacky of a plan it may have been. It had failed spectacularly, now living under the realization that he could not die, not even by his own hand. His life, if he could call it that, belonged to The Tall Man. He wasn’t going anywhere. 

Mike couldn’t pretend to know what exactly was planned for him, why the ball needed to be extracted from his head, why _him_ in particular, and why he needed another one just like him in particular. What was so special about him that he was obsessed about him as such? What did he need from him that a thousand silver sentinels couldn’t do?

The boy had taken to hiding behind a rock, the golden sphere in his head pulsing and pushing like a neonate wanting to be born. Suddenly he felt a new appreciation for women if this was but a fraction of the agony they had to endure. Although he was fairly certain his head was never built for such an act.

He took refuge out of the sun, grimacing as he leaned against the cool rock and pushing his forehead in vain. Would it continue to hurt like this? Would it get worse? Could it… eventually push it’s way out, like it’s trying to do? 

_‘Just push it back in like before, Mikey. Don’t even think about it- it will be fine. It will be fine.’_

It was a disconcerting thought, nonetheless. The huge sphere not unlike the one he saw back in Perigord, but squeezing through the small incision The Tall Man had opened up his skull. As it was the pain throbbed and tensed through his temples, crawling along the top of his head and making it’s way down his spine. The attacks were more common now, and although he was positive this one would end, he couldn’t say when and how long the reprieve would last.

Just like that, the pain was forgotten as he opened his eyes and saw a large black scorpion on his leg. He gasped and froze, to his relief the creature crawling casually off his lap and sat nearby. Mike wasn’t an expert in animal life by any means, he had no idea how venomous or dangerous the thing could be. Perhaps it was harmless, perhaps it didn’t matter. Either way, he was positive in the worst scenario it couldn’t kill him. His baser animal instincts just wanted it gone.

Then came a feeling he could only describe as… a hyper-awareness. Like some instinct he didn’t know he had. Around him he could sense, not so much as see, the various rocks that were precariously perched up high. He felt what he could only describe as thousands of hands… or perhaps, more like tentacles, feelers, _appendages,_ ones he couldn’t see only _feel._ He didn’t bother asking where this new-found feeling and ability came from, instead glancing to a nearby rock and grasping it with hands that both were and were not his own, and pulled it down atop the waiting scorpion.

For a moment he was stunned, amazed at this power he held in his hands- or rather his mind, but he didn’t have long to savor it. Or, for that matter, be disgusted by it. A burgeoning _thing_ entered his consciousness, and he spun around to see exactly what he felt. One of those dwarf-creatures, _Lurkers,_ his mind supplied, poked its head up from beyond a nearby rock. _It sensed your danger, it was here to help-_

Fuck you. He looked up, a larger rock precariously balanced above it. Like a lasso he wrapped his invisible tendrils around it and nudged it but a little bit, watching it fall and spectacularly _smash_ the so-called helper in a splatter that made him smile gleefully. The fucker even turned to look! It was like a spit in the face of The Tall Man’s offer of camaraderie.

_‘Does he know I can do this? Does he know I’m… advancing this fast?’_

This put him on a new level, a somewhat-equal playing field. Now, he could fight back.

He felt himself drawn with a higher purpose now, walking back to home base as he sought to formulate some sort of plan. There wasn’t much he had to work with, he knew, but he couldn’t fight back with his burgeoning powers alone. They clearly were fledgling compared to his, and he was just learning how to wield them. He would need something to work with, some material, some tool.

Mike found himself drawn towards the hearse, a pull both innate and new. He was always a bit of a gear-head, although Jody more so than him. When he was little he had tried to hone his skills of tweaking with the ‘Cuda, partly because of his own interests in mechanics and partly to impress his big brother, to be just like him. As he grew older and found himself living in a mental hospital those skills waned, but he always found himself interested more and more in how things worked, taking things apart and putting them back together again, sometimes better. Never worse.

Now, he popped the hood, crossing his arms as he pondered for the briefest of seconds what he could use-

From where he stood he suddenly could see _everything_. The parts appeared before him complete and unobscured, their uses and functions reading out like he had access to a million different possibilities for its use, and he could read them all at once. It would have taken his breath away had it not already felt natural, and his thirst for knowledge drinking it like a smooth wine free from bite. An idea already began to form in his head, of all the things that could be constructed from this one hearse out in the desert. He had a few tools but mostly, his own two hands.

Yet one seemed omnipresent enough, the need to make something spheroid. Whereas the human side of him wanted him to make boxier objects, he became overcome with the need to ensure there were no corners. It was such a driving need that he found himself doing so before he could question why. Is this how The Tall Man’s kind reproduced? They just made spheres and put… something inside them? 

_‘He is coming.’_ He felt something speak to him, neither in his voice nor _his._ ‘ _Don’t trust him, he is disobedient,_ **_disloyal_ ** _.’_

The last word was said with a dripping venom, and like that it was gone. He felt the approaching entity that was his brother and made the connection soon enough. Disloyal? His brother was always there for him, he was there when his parents died, he was-

Except no, he wasn’t. He died, remember? Jody left you alone. Then it turns out he wasn’t, he was brought back as a sentinel sphere and was able to keep an independent mind somehow. What did that mean? Why him? Was it even really him?

“ _Hey brother._ ”

_‘Disloyal.’_

He wasn’t surprised when he turned his head and saw the floating black sphere, Jody. At least, what he was _told_ was his brother. He now had his doubts, the _feel_ of the scorched-black hovering orb was altogether not the man he grew up with. But then, this was his shrunken brain inside a metal casing he was dealing with, what was he expecting?

The _feel…_ As a normal human Mike would say he could at times feel someone’s presence like anyone else could. But this was something that he couldn’t even explain. It was just so much… _more,_ more everything. He could sense his brother’s power level, his health, the energy he gave off, the nature of his thoughts- if they were positive or negative, although he couldn’t tell what they were exactly. His emotions, the field he gave off that kept him hovering right where he was.

And that was all without prying, he dare not pry further. God knows this was overwhelming enough.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Mike turned back to his work, Jody’s expected presence not holding the allure it once would have. He remembered when he first saw his brother again, when he wanted to jump into his arms and hold him so tight he would never let go. To think, that was all less then a week ago. It was like he was a different man- ‘ _Because you are.’_ A nagging voice in the deepest of his being told him something was off, was wrong. Something had changed. ‘ _Me. I’ve changed.’_

“ _You can’t stay here._ ”

Even now, there was an echoing, vibrating quality and inflection to his voice. It reminded him, now and always, that his brother would never be the same man that he grew up with.

_‘I suppose dying sort of has that effect…’_ But then dying isn’t what it used to be.

“I don’t see many options.” He responded, the defeat in his voice noticeable. In the middle of a wasteland for as far as he could see. Death Valley may have been a national park, but he was far from any sign of civilization. He hadn’t seen a single sign or park ranger, and he knew that was all by design.

The Tall Man wanted him, claimed him, and he knew he was set up to lose. It made what he was planning all the more satisfying on his end.

“ _What’s wrong, can’t you fix it?_ ”

Hah, as if it were only that simple. The Tall Man overheated the engine by force as to fry any chances of him restarting it. Not that it mattered, he was sure he would be cornered again somewhere else eventually.

But it wasn’t just that, something seemed… Off about the floating black sphere. The field he sensed, the warmth and recognition that was Jody was different. 

“I’m not trying to… I’ve got other plans.”

He wasn’t too keen on filling in his brother on his latest plan. The voice that told him Jody was no longer to be trusted had poisoned- or perhaps, enriched- his mind. Everything came rushing back, his anger at his abandonment and confusion at how he ended up like this, in the Tall Man’s clutches. Why did he ever think he could be trusted?

Toying with a piece of the engine, he turned around and faced his brother as he heard him change into his more recognizable, human form. Strange how normal this seemed to him in the span of a mere few days. Something about seeing his brother ‘in the flesh’ enraged him, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Not just the past transgressions, but the mere act of his transformation. 

_‘I never gave him permission to do that…’_ But he quickly squashed this odd, alien thought as he turned his ire to him directly.

“Hey _what_ are you, anyway?” ‘ _Insubordinate. Defiant.’_

_‘No- is he alive, dead? A little of both? Something in-between?’_

Or rather, was he asking the question to find out what he was becoming? Was there any bit of his brother left after being put through The Tall Man’s transformation? Would there be any bit of him left when this was all over?

“I thought you were my brother… Reggie said you died in that car wreck.”

It took him years in a psychiatric hospital to accept it, and he held out for longer then he wished he had. He swore it wasn’t until just before he left and the hunt for The Tall Man became a part of his life again- that he came to realize his brother was really gone. 

He just wanted him back, more than anything. Yet now that he did, all he could do was look that gift horse in the mouth and question why. Jody didn't look a day older than when he remembered him, clearly still in his twenties. 

“No. That was a lie.”

Lie? Reggie wouldn’t lie- especially not about something like this. Maybe he had done it to protect him? Was the truth that much more unsettling? He had to remind himself that the Reggie he knew now didn’t fight The Tall Man with him back in Morningside, but died on it’s grounds. The one he knew didn’t pick up the fight until his family was killed. It wasn’t until he “woke up” that Reggie told him of his brother’s death and simply never told him otherwise, even in all his visits at the asylum.

Jody didn’t seem entirely sure of the answer he gave him, and yet he looked him straight in the eye. Either way, somehow, he was standing, whole, right in front of him. Besides these… “feelings”, senses, and voices, this… information that he wasn’t sure about, nor able to fully understand, it was all he had to go on.

For all he knew, he had lost his mind at last. Perhaps he was, in reality, strapped to a hospital bed as he raved about a Tall Man, spheres in his head and a dead brother. In which case he wished he would wake up already.

_‘You never saw the body.’_

“...But I remember the funeral…” He solemnly replied, “...Mom and Dad.”

Mom and Dad. They were still alive after Jody’s wreck in some of the realities he remembered. How did they manage to comfort him, all while struggling to keep it together themselves? Or was _that_ a dream? Was everything just one horrific fever dream as he struggled to stay alive?

“It seemed so real…” He spoke aloud, doing his best to hold onto the flimsy sense of reality he still somehow had.

Mike leaned on the end of the risen hood of the hearse, contemplating as he stared at whatever the thing in front of him was, Jody or some horrible phantasm, a spirit, a ghost- perhaps a doppelganger sent to deceive him.

“So what is it with you, brother? Are you alive or are ‘ya dead?”

The question came as a way to finally get _some_ answers from someone, and yet all he got was a blank stare. Did he piss him off? Old Jody would have blown him off and walked away, never one to let anger get between friends and family, but a cold stare? It seemed out of character; yet he hadn’t seen his brother for the first time in years all but a scant few days ago. They had both changed, some more than others.

Still he did feel a slight brimming of anger behind his facade, he was being accused of deceit, of being an imposter, of lying to him. Of course that would piss him off. But Mike no longer let his malicious inner feelings stay rooted, and shot out what he had been thinking all along.

_‘You wanted to leave me, to go out on the road again. Head to LA, the ‘land of pussy and palm trees’ you called it, leave me with aunt Claira, away from Reggie and without a damn friend in the world. All because you couldn’t stand me anymore.’_

“You know, _Reggie_ I can count on… Reggie’s always been there for me.”

He was there to take him home from that cemetery when he decided to dig up graves instead of coming home, convince him that maybe there was some good in the world- all before _it_ happened. He was there at his bedside as he recovered from that night- and yet even he couldn’t be there all the time. Couldn’t stop what had been done to him. 

“...But _you?”_

The venom in his voice was apparent, and even Mike wasn’t sure if it was truthful or a result of his attempt to make Jody feel as much like shit as possible.

Mike wanted to yell out all the bullshit he felt over the years, all the feelings of betrayal and loneliness, all those years he was alone while his brother was in the clutches of The Tall Man serving as his personal pet. All because he couldn’t wait to be away from his family, speeding away recklessly in the ‘Cuda and flipping it, setting the car aflame and burning to a crisp.

It didn’t faze Mike to realize he was now remembering two different memories at once, one where his parents passed first and one where Jody did. Either one stung, and both played out with the same end. Never mind the dream where they fought The Tall Man together, Reggie, Jody and him, and won. Reggie died, and yet he woke up to find him alive again. It didn’t seem to matter, as he was always him, living through realities stacked on top of one another, unaffected through time and space. _‘Is that why he picked me?’_

Mike was bothered by how little his brother had reacted, his face didn’t change, and not a word passed his lips. He just stood there as he was accused of being the least trustworthy thing in his life. Annoyed further, Mike backed up and removed his jacket, the Death Valley sun sufficiently heating up his heat-starved body just enough. He flung said jacket into the car, closing it with a thud.

“... _you,_ I can’t trust.”

Jody’s silence continued as Mike waltzed over to the other side of the hearse in a huff. He was searching for anything he could use; anything at all. It was then when he realized he hadn’t ransacked the front end of the car.

He pulled out the front seat, checking behind it and revealing nothing. It wasn’t surprising, he figured, that The Tall Man would keep his hearse nice and tidy. Nothing was wasted, something he had to guess was rather true to his species.

Something told him to check the glove box, yanking it open and gazing inside, expectantly, for reasons unknown.

Strangely absent were a license and registration, but what was present was _that_ knife, the dagger. The same one that he held as he chased his younger self through the woods, the one he used to murder Tommy and then Reggie, he wondered in how many universes it was used to murder _him_.

It was strangely simple, the blade silver and the handle a black spiral pattern. Holding it gave him a sort of reverence, and he questioned why on earth he didn’t drop it in disgust like he did the suit earlier. Part of the reason being the simple need for a weapon of any sort, especially if _he_ showed up- or Jody turned on him. Yet he knew it wasn’t the entire truth. The blade felt at home in his hands, it’s former wielder like a God and he the follower. He pushed those thoughts away, stored them for later. 

He realized he was in some sort of daze when Jody approached him, breaking the feeling of unease gazing at the glinting blade provided.

“...You can’t imagine what I went through to get back here.”

That actually made him laugh out loud. Oh yes, he should just get on his knees and kiss his brother’s ass because he traveled over hill and dale to get back to him. Nevermind he conveniently disappeared right when he needed him the most, right when he had to flee because he was terrified he’d hurt his best friend. Because he had no idea what he was becoming and why- he was just _gone_ , all after hearing him tell Reggie something cryptic, esoteric and condescending.

“Let me guess… Seeing is easy, understanding takes a little more time…Right?”

Now he stood in front of his brother again, a glimmer of recognition after he repeated the line.

Finally, all his prodding produced an answer.

“I didn’t abandon you, Mike.” He defended, “I was taken.”

Mike immediately felt transported into his brother’s shoes, not in the present, but in the past. He had been driving the Hemi ‘Cuda, the memory as to how and why was lost to him in this state. The moment was so fluid and natural, he could not say it was Jody putting him in a memory or actually being transported into the past. He supposed those two things were irrelevant now, in the sort of reality he lived in.

He watched through his eyes as he made his way into the house, Mike scoured to find evidence of how and when this could be. There were artifacts of both himself and his parents, this particular reality being one in which they were all still alive. Or were they? The house was dark and silent, nobody to be seen.

It should have been strange, being in someone else’s head, and yet he took to it like a fish in water. He took it to mean there was a more fluid nature to consciousness, easily transportable like water into a cup. He had to wonder if his dear brother took to things this easily, or for that matter any of the dead The Tall Man collected. 

Jody turned on the light and entered his room, feeling tired and sweaty. It was a cool fall night, but it was stifling in here, so he opened the nearby window to get a breath of fresh air. Mike felt himself grow restless at the thought of an open window- The Tall Man tried to attack him through a glass window, and this one was even easier. 

His anxiety lifted ever so easier when he turned around and walked to a closet, again knowing something could jump out. Yet from what he could tell, Jody seemed relaxed and exhausted. Had this reality fought The Tall Man? Was this Jody just as alien as any other incarnation? Was it really his brother, then, if it was someone whom he had never really met? Or was this all just bullshit?

He clicked on the light in the nearby open closet, reaching in to grab a towel. Cleaning his face off with it, he had just settled into what Mike was going to consider some mundane past thread of memory when he watched through his brother’s eyes as he pulled the door closed. A door that contained a mirror-

_‘You began to pack when you hit the door and it moved- and you looked, he was there in the mirror-’_

The Tall Man stood, rigid, holding a dagger aloft. Fear spread quickly as his heart seized, spinning around just as he did-

Gone. It was all gone. No Jody, no Tall Man, just him in the desert with a hearse, the air whistling across the land.

No, no there was something else.

The hum. It was louder, noticeably louder. Mike darted to the rock where he knew the spacegates lay beyond in the valley. They had easily doubled, their resonating nearly deafening beyond the rock he was peering over.

Goosebumps returned to his flesh as he realized with an increasing terror that time was running out. He didn’t know particularly what The Tall Man had planned, but knew it involved harvesting him for something. The closer to this invasion, the closer his fate came. Whatever that was.

Just then, the presence returned. He was surprised to find himself already missing his brother, despite his belief in his falsehoods. Jody had returned to his black sphere form, hovering behind him as he took in the same sights he did.

_“Soon there will be thousands…”_ His odd voice rang, and he wanted so desperately to ask how he knew this, how he _could_ know. Part of him didn’t want to find out.

_“Their invasion will be a blight upon this land.”_

How? How could this _colonization_ be so much worse then we’ve done ourselves? With our pollution, wars, and genocides? The thought surprised Mike, but he felt it overwhelming his old self, bubbling over like a pot left on the stove. Thoughts he swore were not his own. He became angry at his species, at his life, why he was being targeted; what business was it of his to stop The Tall Man and his conquest? He was one man, and the former aspect was now questionable at best.

Perhaps it needs to happen, perhaps it _should_ happen. Let the old world die, let the new one be born.

_‘I don’t mean that, you don’t mean-’_

“So be it.” Mike spat bitterly, holding his gaze as he walked down and back to the hearse.

Jody watched, like a spectator of some great folly, helpless, as his attempts to save his brother fell on deaf ears. 

* * *

Michael knew the night was soon approaching. Too quickly, the sun would set and the chill in the air would drive him inside the car. He had already decided that tonight he would light a fire, his brain swarming with the entire process on how to do it in such a barren environment. He never considered himself much of an outdoors kid, he was taught how to make the most simple of fires when he was camping once, and since then he didn’t think he ever needed to. 

Jody had disappeared back to whatever hole he came out of before. Part of him missed him already, part of him felt refreshed that he could finish his work in peace. He once again leaned towards the engine of the Cadillac, the hood shielding him from the sun. Although he more and more was finding himself soaking in the intense heat, not a drop of sweat on his brow. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt exhausted by the heat.

Every aspect of the engine suddenly interested him, he could fathom how each part worked, how it could fit together. What each piece looked like placed-end-to-end, it’s smell, it’s mass, everything became far too overwhelming. Yet he was able to wade through it easily enough, shifting the invisible files in the new vast interconnected network he had access to, all in his head.

His solution was to work fast, the quicker he moved, the easier it was to keep track of the plans filtering through his neurons. He undid the air filter, popping it off with some ease. With this, a new flood of information filled the brim of his consciousness, and he could barely contain it all as he stripped the engine with a speed he didn’t know he possessed. Even the radio was needed for it’s electrical components.

He hunted for one part especially, surprising himself as he wrenched it free. A round, silver component. Mike tried to understand why he was being told to make this, what purpose it would serve, and yet he found himself more driven than ever. He was ripping out parts and assembling them faster then he could fathom, filthy with grease and grime and yet finding himself more and more excited about where the result was going to end up.

The Tall Man kept coming back because the sphere in his head could simply find its way to a dimension and find another copy of Jebediah. What if he destroyed both? If he could reduce him to itty bitty bits and pieces, sever his connection to his home world, it just might work.

He worked into the night, but surprised himself with how quickly he finished. Mike was putting things together that he didn’t think was possible, his hands working faster than his brain could comprehend. The sphere came together in a way that floored him the most, and had he been a normal adolescent in a normal world at a normal time, it’s technology could have made him a rich man for the rest of his years. He wasn’t sure why he felt so compelled to make it, as though it was a part of his very DNA. 

When he finished, he had enough time to gather some rocks together and make a small fire pit, then added the dry wood and found the matches in the car to light a nice fire. It crackled to life as he scooted near, a sense of overwhelming calm filling him as he looked up at the winking stars. 

Finally, he was no longer defenseless. He felt like the kid he was back in the mausoleum, facing off against The Tall Man with nothing but a knife. That knife, and the dagger he now held in his pocket, gave him all the confidence he needed. How useful it would be had yet to be decided. 

The hours went by, his eyelids growing heavy. No Tall Man, no Jody, no Reggie. As much as he hated to say it, he had gotten to the point where he wished _something_ would happen already.

_‘I suppose I could play with my new toys?’_

Mike looked towards the quiet hearse, sitting there in the dark with its hood propped open. Inside was an entirely different makeup then it was when he began. The entirety of the car’s engine had been stripped front to back, rearranged in a way that no human could possibly fathom, its innards now a dangerous weapon of war. He wished he could say he scarcely believed it, but he had gone beyond that point now. Instead he had accepted the new strangeness, making peace with his new form and this particular benefit.

The sphere that sat in the middle was nestled in the mechanical nest that provided its power. He poked it with his mind, smiling as the little thing came alive. It hovered just like _his_ spheres did, but chugged away like a motor-driven thing it sprang from. It was almost like watching a child taking its first steps, and he had no qualms with that comparison.

It returned to its nest, quieting down as it waited for his order. 

_‘Ready when you are, you tall son of a bitch.’_

* * *

Micheal waited until the fire died out, pondering his future, wondering what would happen if he did so happen to beat The Tall Man at long last. Where would he go? What would he do? Could he even live in this dimension? Did he truly belong in Death Valley, or on The Red Planet? Could he die, would he die? What was dying like? He saw the light back when he was in a coma, right before he woke up… was it real or a dream? Could he still go to heaven if he was an alien from another world? 

He poked the last of the dying embers with a nearby twig, then made his way back to the car. It may have been a weapon now, but he could still use it until he triggered it. It was cold out here now, now that he was… well, what he was. He lit the candles again and jammed the dagger into the wood near the candelabra, not wanting it to keep poking him in the thigh. Finding the “will” he started to Reggie, he opened it up and decided to write another chapter. He knew now what he had to do, and wanted a record left behind in case he never came back.

“ _Dear Reggie_ ”, he began again. “ _Today I was able to conjure one of his dimensional forks, and discovered something astonishing. In another time, I believe I met him before he turned evil…_ ”

Jebediah Morningside was clearly an innocent older gentleman. It wasn’t his fault he was dabbling in a science he couldn’t possibly understand would lead to… whatever happened to him. He knew it had to do with something relating to the “dimensional fork” he spoke of, the one he traveled through to get there. As bad as he felt for him, there were much larger things at stake here. Not just for him, but for the entire planet.

“ _...If only I could return there and somehow change things. We know that he can’t be killed...But could he be stopped from ever existing?”_

It was his only hope. Would killing Jebediah Morningside stop his transformation? Reverse it? Would Jody and his parents return to life? Would he be given back all those years lost to him in a coma, and in a nuthouse? Would the invasion stop dead in its tracks, would Liz come back? Reggie’s family? Would the world be saved?

A dark feeling gripped him, one of selfishness, and yet he couldn’t help it. His thoughts were his own, they still were, he was sure of it. What he worried about more than anything right now was the end of his change, stopping some eldritch being from controlling his body and soul. If he remained who he was, so be it- but he would be nobody’s slave. That much was certain. He would not go willingly into his control, like a puppy to it’s master. That he was damn sure of at that moment.

He felt the dark look on his face as he scooted out of the hearse, blowing out the candles and raising to attention. Determined, he marched his way out and stood, focused on the ground as he manifested two metal poles, a spacegate, a dimensional fork, whatever- it’s low humming resonating him to his bones and giving him an oddly pleasant feeling of control.

Clasping his hands in front of himself, he looked down on them solemnly. This wasn’t something he delighted in, that’s for sure. He pocketed the knife before leaving, it’s metal once again poking his skin as a constant reminder.

Before he hadn’t thought of a single thing as he rushed to the fork, disappearing and landing in the past, in Jebediah’s estate. But perhaps if he kept the image in his head as he passed through, he would land there once again? But what about time? What if he got there too late? That would be a disaster. Was it as simple as thinking of a number as well?

“You go where I _want_ you to go...Boy.” 

He heard the voice in his head, and yet-

He turned slowly, afraid to see if he was actually there- Fear shot up his spine and he reacted before he could even attempt to steer where he was going. The Tall Man had appeared at long last, and he stood there looking at him like a parent who found their chastised child in the cookie jar. He wasn’t sure what he even intended to do, but it didn’t matter. Mike threw caution to the winds and jumped through.

The last place he expected to land was a cold, wet street. It was a different time for sure, as the sun was rising, the sky pink and streaked with clouds. He looked around for any nearby person to ask the date and time, but was surprised to find himself completely alone in what appeared to be a normally busy street.

Street lights still blinked, audibly clicking as they went from green to red. He took in the billboards, the palm trees, the tall buildings- and surmised that he may have been in Los Angeles. A sign for Cochran Ave hung from a faraway lamp, at least indicating in some way wherever the hell he was.

But why? Mike had never seen a town bigger than the small one he came from, although he often wished he could. But why was this place a ghost town? It looked like the kind of place that never slept.

Then he turned around, and saw _him_. The Tall Man was walking towards him in the distance, his long strides confident in his objective, and that was Mike himself. Even from here he could hear his shoes stomping on the road, the silence of what should have been a busy street deafening.

That absolute, abysmal terror clutched at him again, the horror of the unknown, of possible bondage, of having his very being erased. It drove him to flee again, his weapon and method of defense useless from this distance. The one he built from a hearse was in another dimension completely, he just hoped he could find his way back.

He found an alley as quickly as he could, running down it as he peered over his shoulder. However, he wasn’t expecting someone to grab said shoulder and announce their presence- fuck’s sake, it was Jody. He was embarrassed by the yelp he made, but was more than pleased it wasn’t who it _could_ have been.

“You found me! He’s right behind me, he’s coming.”

It continued to annoy him how Jody was just standing there, they needed to be running!

“There’s a way out…” Jody told him, his anxiety vaporized at such news. There was a fork somewhere nearby?

“...What is this place?” He decided to ask instead, his curiosity taking over now that safety was all but guaranteed.

“You mean _when_?” Jody replied in a way that was almost amused. Already he confirmed his suspicions that this was not the here-and-now.

“We can’t stay here,” He continued, not answering his question. ‘ _What else is new.’_

“There’s a risk of infection.” 

_‘What?’_

He wanted to grill his brother, but time was of the essence. If there was a plague, a sickness, it would explain how the streets were bare. Either everyone was dead or holed up in their homes, either situation was horrifying. If this was a matter of _when,_ it meant it didn’t happen yet. It meant he had time to stop this- or was this destined to happen? Was he sure he wanted to? 

He didn’t want to tell his brother that there was fat chance that either of them could get said sickness. If it couldn’t infect The Tall Man then it couldn’t affect himself or Jody, a sphere. 

Jody whisked him away, behind a building and through a dimensional fork. Mike couldn’t help but think he was delaying the inevitable, but he pushed that thought down. He wondered if Jody was being watched or was an agent of his own- because if The Tall Man governed where he could go, surely Jody could be too?

* * *

He had jumped through after his brother, landing on his knees as he looked over to find him gazing over the ocean. Ocean- oh, they were now on a rather nice beach. Waves crashed on the rocks, the sound of seagulls cawing filtered over the sound of the water. It smelled of brine, the salt refreshing to his nostrils after he had spent what felt like a damn lifetime in the godforsaken desert. The sand was wet on his knees, sinking down into the surface.

_'I could stay here...we could stay here. Swim out, maybe he won’t come into the ocean? Yeah, and do what? Stay out there forever? Use your head.’_

Mike looked at his brother, standing there solemnly. He knew this wasn’t the time for happiness by any means, but there was something altogether unsettling about his behavior. He stood there, looking out across the ocean as though pondering something deep. Although he had expected him to be somewhat dour considering he was dead, after all- he wasn’t acting like this all but a few days ago. He was defiant of The Tall Man, seeking to protect his little brother at all costs. 

It was then when Mike felt it again, like the winds changing, he _felt_ Jody, not by touch but… something else. He could sense the energy around him, could just about taste it. He closed down this particular sense, not because it wasn’t useful, but because of how uncomfortable it was. Jody gave off a total sensation of despair and pain, of hopelessness. 

While Mike couldn’t disagree per say, it disturbed him to his core- his brother was never like this. Not once was he ever the sort to phone things in. He didn’t recognize him-

_‘Disloyal.’_

Michael stood up straight. He didn’t want to think he was being led to the slaughter, he had no choice but to trust his brother right now.

His ears pricked to a sound that floated through the dimensional fork. A winding, creaking sound he recognized. He turned around, realizing it was the exact reason why he had made it to begin with. The sphere was a handy watchdog, winding to life at the feeling of anybody nearby.

_‘Is it him, is it The Tall Man?’_

For a moment Mike wondered if he could use the sphere to see- surely The Tall Man was capable of such things with his own. He laid out feelers into the next dimension, and was surprised at how easy it was. Something about the sphere made the connection easy, but was only able to determine a red haze, devoid of features. 

_‘Damn.’_

He turned back after the noise paused, he wouldn’t leave without his brother, and he didn’t seem antsy to depart quite yet. It was then when Jody turned to him, his face forlorn, set in despair, as if receiving news he could do nothing about.

“He’ll be coming for you soon…”

There was no need to say who, they both knew. With his arms crossed, he looked back at him, waiting for him to add something, like a plan, something Jody would say. What he didn’t expect was for him to go back to looking at the sea. As if nothing was happening at all.

He also didn’t quite expect the pure _blast_ of noise from the fork behind him. Now that was a sound that he remembered quite well. The sound of a quadruple-barrel shotgun being let loose across those damn lurkers. 

Mike wanted to be excited, but found himself tempered. While he was glad his friend was still alive, he knew now that there was nothing The Ice-Cream Man could do. Nothing that is, except get hurt. If he died in any way, even if it was to save him from being taken, he would rather be dead himself. He could never forgive himself for that.

Spinning around, he took a deep breath before he let his brother know. 

“It’s Reggie…”

* * *

He gathered Jody and together they went through the gate. Jody, being The Tall Man’s captive for as long as he had, seemed to have a good handle at getting the proper destination down pat. That being said, his reaction to being informed of Reggie’s arrival was… odd. He seemed genuinely concerned, but the vibe he was giving off didn’t register to Mike as one of concern for Reggie himself, but for something or someone else.

Something was very wrong here. This wasn’t Jody- or at least, he had been changed, at least since he’d seen him last. But he couldn’t be sure, he couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

Reg stood by the hearse, looking up as they just passed the threshold. His right hand was bandaged, but he couldn’t be sure how. He wore his old ice cream uniform from all the way back in Morningside, he wore that thing even on days off. He’d never seen someone so damn proud of their job. But then Mike could say he hadn’t had the most experience in life- although he was just as surprised that Reggie had that damn thing in the ‘Cuda this whole time.

“Mike!” Reg greeted him with a smile- it was nice, he admitted, to see he still had friends in this world.

The Ice Cream man bounded over with a laugh, and Mike felt his heart crumble. He knew before all of this was over, someone was going to be hurt, and he couldn’t help but feel it might be the only possibly non-immortal one there.

“Hey Mike! I found you guys!” 

He embraced his best friend, Reggie hugging him tighter then he did him, not wanting to get too close, not again.

“Hey Jody.” Came Reggie’s more monotone greeting as he hugged his younger brother, and Mike was more surprised to hear Jody reply “Reg” in a far more, almost _hateful_ greeting. 

Mike didn’t know what had happened between these two, an arguement or what, but it made him all the more uncomfortable. He needed Jody for one more task, after that he would have to make some sort of move. The tickling at the back of his brain had been telling him not to trust him, and it had been right.

“Don’t trust him, Reggie…” He whispered while he was close enough. “Stay here… There’s something I need to do.”

Reggie pulled away and gave Mike a look of complete understanding. It was refreshing he had to admit, to not encounter any push-back for once. Reggie was always there for him.

It was then when Reggie palmed something, and transferred it stealthily to him via a warm handshake. The cool metal was familiar, a tuning fork _._ It took him all but a second to realize what it could possibly be meant for. If holding both poles closes a dimensional fork, then a tuning fork might very well disrupt the signal from this world to his, or disrupt their inner workings. He wondered if it would have any effect on him, but decided it was worth a try if things got down to the wire.

Mike turned effortlessly to his brother, the changing of hands going undetected.

“I need to go back to the beginning,” He stated with more assurance then he’d felt in a long, long time. “Back where it all started.”

Jody shook his head and shrugged, as if it was no problem at all. 

“Let’s go.”

They both turned and marched into the dimensional fork. Mike didn’t want to look at Reggie as he left. His disappointment of losing sight of his friends again, being told to sit tight and wait, it had to be hell. But he knew he was doing him a favor. 

Right now, his mission was to murder a helpless man, and it wasn’t something he was planning on explaining to him, not yet anyway.

* * *

Mike knew it was odd when they didn’t use the dimensional fork that was already present, but formed a new one behind Jedediah's lab. He tried to be as stealthy as possible when he saw him present, hoping against hope that the older man’s hearing or rather lack thereof was keeping them from being noticed. He followed Jody behind a table of glass flasks and other chemistry equipment, as his brother relayed The Tall Man’s origins in his head.

_‘Just like Liz and I used to communicate.’_

The memory enraged him again, where was Jody when the only other one like him was being murdered?

Jebediah sat at his desk, visibly distraught. His form was slumped, his left hand clutching his spectacles as he held his forehead. Said arm propped him up, otherwise Mike was sure he would fall directly forward from exhaustion. He wasn’t sure if anything had happened or not, something to make him so tired and weary, or it was a culmination of events that finally broke his spirit. A scientist could only make so many assumptions from nothing, he needed evidence. 

_‘Is this my fault? If I had stayed, told him to smash that machine, told him what he would become...Gave him the proof he wanted?’_

It doesn’t matter. He was here now, and he wasn’t going to risk him listening to reason. He didn’t know how Jebediah became an eldritch thing from another world, whether he became corrupted by power or turned much like him, he couldn’t take the chance that he would run headlong into the portal anyway. 

_“This is the night, Mike.’”_ Jody began, “ _The night when it all started.”_

The man in front of him straightened up and began to toy with something on the desk before him.

_“As undertaker, he bore witness to the stark passage of life to death. But the more he put in the grave, the more questions he had.”_

He watched as Jebediah held two metal cylinders, studying them, as if making some sudden revelation.

_“He came to the conclusion that the answers were before him, hidden in subjects as simple as shifting phases, vibration, warmth and cold.”_

Mike watched with bated interest. This truly was the moment, he could feel it. Jebediah was going to do something that would change him forever. He wished he could say a word of warning as it clawed at his throat, he wanted to warn him- but no. Instead he felt rage, he felt blood-lust as red as the dawn. The cold of the metal dagger in his pocket pressed into his abdomen as his hand padded it, itching to use it. 

_“His passion- to learn the craft, find the rift. To make his way through that passage.”_

Jebediah pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, then took out an antique pocket watch, checking the time.

_"This is the hour. The time has come.”_

He put the watch away, then to Mike’s terror looked backwards and directly at him. Mike froze- what would he do? Could he see him? What would he even say-

No reaction, the older man got up as if there was nobody there. _‘He must not be able to see me.’_

With a newly rekindled passion, the doctor grabbed his jacket and pulled it around him. It was obvious that he had made up his mind about something, and now there was no stopping him. He looked down as he grabbed some amber apothecary bottles from his chemistry set, but Mike couldn’t say he knew what they could be. Was he planning to bring back samples? He pondered what would happen had a civil war-era astronaut made it to the moon in his time, he would likely prepare much the same way, ignorant to the things they didn’t know yet.

To Mike, it was obvious. Jebediah had been sick of waiting. A man of science, he had tested this and that, made conjectures and theories, all without getting any closer. There was but one way to find out what lay beyond the portal, and that was to test it himself.

Mike briefly wondered if he had never jumped through that portal, if he would try this all the same. Had seeing him made him feel the other side was safe? Had civilization? 

Really, he had wanted to feel guilty, but he was too busy chomping at the bit, heart rate fluttering in anxiety. The hunger for sugar was still squeezing his stomach against his backbone, coupled by the ever-present desire to be by The Tall Man’s side, but now they reared their head again in his cresting anxiety, all the while the sphere in his head poked gently at his incision from the inside.

Jody and him moved to better see what they both knew what was about to happen. Mike took the opportunity to spy on his desk, filled with papers and books. His writing was as intense as he imagined, the script being so condensed and proper it made it difficult to read. Christ, cursive in school was never his strong suit. Yet something else had caught his eye.

He moved a few things aside, and found a picture- one that made his blood run cold. It was the same exact picture he found in the antique shop as a boy, the one that made him realize The Tall Man was unlikely to be killed. The picture of him was not only the same man but in a clearly older setting, a horse-drawn hearse and The Tall Man himself dressed as a man of the late 1800’s, but it _moved._ He was sure no one else could see it, that for some reason he saw it as this and only this… And that just made it all the more frightening. He saw no reason for it. Why this picture? Why this time?

All his pondering made him miss crucial time- he heard the gears being cranked, and knew he had to act. He had fucked around long enough, he needed to do this if he wanted to save himself.

With a glance to Jody, he saw him standing with what appeared to be a combination of reverence and terror. He wanted to think about it, but in reality it was the perfect thing to keep his eyes off of the dagger he pulled from inside his jacket. With his other hand he palmed the pommel, intending to drive it into him as hard and effectively as he could.

_‘Strike hard, strike fast- then when he falls, slit his throat. He’ll be dead, then run through the gate. You can deal with Jody later…’_

He watched as he powered on the fork, the flash of sparks bright and the air sizzling with electricity. The hum filled the air, the ozone different on his tongue. 

Mike could have sworn he began to drool- and he wasn’t sure from what, blood-lust, or being so near to another gate. These new inhibitions were not being checked, things were moving too fast for that.

Jebediah stood before the gate, and Mike made his move, walking in front of Jody while feeling his hackles bristle at the idea of possibly being stopped. 

_‘Just let him try, he’ll be next.’_

“You can’t affect him.” Jody seethed, catching sight of what he was doing, the annoyance in his voice obvious. 

Too late. Mike was on the downswing- despite Jebediah going through the gate, he _should_ have still made contact. Jody was right, something was preventing him from doing damage to anything, or at least anything of consequence.

“We’re not in the same dimension.”

Pissed. He was pissed. He needed to do this, _now._ All the while Jody didn’t seem to be very fucking helpful. Why bring him back like this? Before, he had clearly made contact with Jebediah, he could have killed him right there! What was preventing Jody from allowing that sort of thing again? Hell if he knew how to go back in time at the right moment himself, he would have done so on his own.

Walking towards his brother, he made eye contact, making very clear the importance of this mission.

“When’s he coming back?”

Jody didn’t look away, that feeling of reverence dropping and instead an abysmal sense of horror flooding his aura that he tasted like a flavor to his tongue. 

“Jebediah Morningside never does come ba-”

The sound of the gate working- Jody’s eyes shot towards it, and he never finishes his sentence, but Mike catches what he meant. When Jebediah went through that gate for the first time, it was also his last. He met something- _him,_ or perhaps _it_ was more applicable. Good God, it must have been terrifying.

He knew the feeling, because the reason for Jody’s terror stepped through the spacegate. This was not Jebediah Morningside, but he wore his skin just as well, his warm color replaced by the cool, and his aura malign and incorporeal.

This was clearly The Tall Man from now, not the one from the past. His clothes were too modern. He held a sentinel sphere in one hand, Mike still only had the dagger, knowing it would do nothing to him, it could still draw blood. Before this night was over, he had better have drawn _someone’s_ blood.

As soon as he stepped through, he looked around, and Mike was relieved to realize they were still in an alternate dimension on top of the past. He was looking around in amusement, most likely enjoying the trip to the past. Maybe they would luck out and stay hidden-

Shit, nope. He caught his eye and that was it. To his left, he saw his brother’s head jittering quickly, he wasn’t sure if it could be from terror, or The Tall Man’s control. Either way he knew he couldn’t worry about him. The Tall Man still owned his brother, as much as that disgusted him, and knew if anyone was “safe” here, it was him.

Mike drew the dagger again, holding it in his direction as he rounded on him and walked with his back to the portal. Amazed that was able to keep him at bay- but it seemed The Tall Man enjoyed this little dance enough to let him escape.

Walking back into the portal, Mike wished and hoped to be taken anywhere, anywhere at all except that damn Red Planet.

* * *

A graveyard under a bright full moon wasn’t what he was expecting, but it sure as hell beats the alternative. Mike had to wonder why The Tall Man didn’t just send him to that arid, oxygen-choked world and capture him that way- perhaps it was because even Mike, in his altered state, couldn’t survive, and it appeared he was needed alive. But then, Mike knew not to think too hard pondering his schemes, it made sense to a being like him, and for him that was all that mattered.

Although, Mike postulated, he was one of them now, too. Shouldn’t this all come together a bit better?

Mike walked across the moist, dewy grass, hands in his pockets in a manner unbecoming to someone who was in the sort of danger he was in. His heart, alien though it now was, continued to hammer against his ribs as he looked over his shoulder at the dimensional fork that sat behind him. He wondered if he could close it like Reggie has, but knew that even if he did, it could just as easily be reopened.

He was in a fog, one of both confusion and fear, unsure of his next move. His main plan had failed spectacularly, and although there was per chance a possibility he could enact it again, he knew he was running out of time. Jody was now a liability, he was back there with The Tall Man and he had most likely regained some control of his rebelled slave. Even if that had not been the case, he had knowingly put him in a dimension that made his plan useless, had he known? Or suspected? Had The Tall Man ordered him to do so? Either way, it fucked him up well enough.

The love he had for his long-dead sibling had since dried up. Now he loathed the thought of Jody walking through that gate again. It wasn’t just his betrayal, or his period of absence, or even his recent attitude, it was an overall feeling of… malice. He couldn’t shake it, like the hatred was seeded into his brain.

Mike leaned against a tree. Was his feeling the result of The Tall Man? What he had become? Was their link that strong, to share hatred of a subordinate that had disappointed him one too many times?

_‘Or maybe it’s because your brother went off to fuck a bimbo in a cemetery instead of making sure his little brother was alright at home. You need to focus, Micheal. He’s coming for you. You’re going to be in chains forever if you don’t-’_

Something was coming through the dimensional fork, the sound rattling his bones and his nerves. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or annoyed that it was Jody, looking around as if he wasn’t right in front of him.

“Mike!”

“Over here!” 

As much as he may not have trusted him, blood was blood, he supposed. He would have to find out what happened and make his guess from there.

Jody made his way towards him, but thought to ask him before he could get there.

“Did you shake him?!”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” He replied with a puff of air in the chill.

_‘Odd. Can he even do that when he’s dead? Or… whatever he is?’_

He walked up to him and stood there, strangely stoic and stilted. Mike looked up at him from under his heavy eyelids, tired, and nearly defeated. He had one ace in the hole still, back in the desert. What if The Tall Man knew? What if he was intentionally being kept away?

“Take me back to the desert. Where we came from.”

Jody stared at him blankly, but eventually sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

“If I could I would, little brother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He replied with more irritability than he would have liked.

“It means I’m not your personal chauffeur through space and time anymore, Mike. He’s waiting for me to hop back in, then he can lock on to me again and he’ll find you.”

_‘Dick’._

Mike thought as he shot him a venomous look, then peered away. It was cold out here. He could feel his body bristle at the thought of it dropping in temperature any further.

Was he telling the truth? He couldn’t tell. The energy leaking from him was difficult to read. He tasted and felt of pure anxiety and fear, but knew he very well would feel this way in this situation, regardless. He probably looked the same way.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

His brother gave him a condescending glare, one he recognized quite often from all the times he second guessed his brother on the mysteries of life, his child-like logic making far more sense to him than anything he said.

“Come on, Mike. This isn’t a game anymore. He’s going to get you, and if he does he’ll never let you go-”

“It was _never_ a game!” 

He exploded, stepping away from the tree for a moment. This was it, he was never going to let this one go. What a horrible thing to say to him!

“To him it is.” Jody retorted, his eyes blank, but his aura, his vibe, his energy shaking. 

Mike looked at him right in those dead eyes, then a thought occurred to him- and he couldn’t let it go.

“He said to me, when he chased me through the woods that night… ‘I played a good game, but the game was finished.” 

Jody stiffened a little, but kept his hands in his pockets, as if he had something he had wanted to use.

“...I never told anyone that, Jody. Not you, not Reggie… not the clinic, nobody.”

His brother’s breathing quickened, and at this point he knew he had his answer. 

“You would never say something like that to me. Ever. Those are _his_ words. He told you that, didn’t he? You’re here to take me back.”

Mike leaned back against the tree, waiting for some kind of response, anything. His body was like a live wire, and he was ready to eviscerate his kin if need be. Betrayer, backstabber, traitor. Not just to him but to his own kind.

His rapid-fire train of thought was interrupted by something he didn’t exactly expect. He disappeared. His brother phased out of reality as the sound of the dimensional fork fired up in the background. 

_‘Things didn’t go your way, so you hit the reset button, huh?’_

He played enough Atari to know a sore loser when he saw one. Although he had to wonder if The Tall Man had this capability, why didn’t he use it on himself? There was so much he had to learn, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to learn it.

“Mike!”

The same exact shit as before, he even looked around in the same way. Was this some sort of rift in time? Or dimensions? Either way he was going to make sure he was on the offensive this time, he wouldn’t give Jody time to lie.

“Over here!”

Hands in his pockets, just like before, he strode towards him. Micheal set his gaze, making it clear to the whatever-it-is, Jody or not, that he wasn’t here to play any damn game, not anymore, and not ever.

Like The Tall Man said, the game was finished.

“I knew you’d find me here.”

His tone was icy, just like the damn air. His brother’s eyes looked at him with every hint of malice, and he knew something was different. Something or someone knew. It was then when he saw it, Jody’s aura was more than something he could feel, and became something he could see. Streaks of green filament appeared, shifting around him like a miasma cloud and shimmering like heat rising from asphalt.

Mike shifted through the knowledge he had in his new neuronetwork, finding that this was quite a natural and normal thing to this new species he belonged to. The color green meant several things, and the one he zeroed in was apparent.

‘ _Deceit’_

“What’s up, big brother?”

Say _something_ anyway, make this easier. Mike’s hand found the dagger he put in his back pocket, his hand hidden between himself and the tree.

It happened faster than he expected, not a word, but an attack. Jody grabbed him harshly by the neck, squeezing tighter then he thought he could. His neck should have been bruised by the noose earlier that day, but this strange new body of his seemed to have already healed, thankfully. That still didn’t make this situation much better.

He fished the dagger from his pocket and was about to bring in forward, when he found Jody had done the same. Except it wasn’t a knife, but a sentinel sphere. It was then when he realized that his dead brother couldn’t possibly be the same one from before. He couldn’t be both holding him by the neck and appearing as a sphere. Something was most assuredly wrong.

The terrifying sound of a metallic clank signaled something popping up from the sphere, and was horrified to see a saw blade. It started up immediately, revving up and operating at a tremendous speed. He wasn’t trying to kill him, he was going to try and extract his cranial sphere. After that there was no doubt it would be wrenched from his head by his own flesh and blood, and brought to The Tall Man himself. 

Mike grabbed his hand, his strength just enough to keep back the blade. He didn’t even want to think about that thing touching his head, sawing through his cranium. When The Tall Man did the same with a different, alien-like saw, it was excruciating enough to wish for death, or even just to black out. He didn’t even know if it was possible for him to black out anymore.

At that moment, he had tried to meet his brother’s eyes, to find something in there. Yet the resolve had not lifted, and his expression had not changed. Something happened to him, and he didn’t think there was any going back. Was this his fate? Was he destined to perform like this, enslaved to attack and maim, all without a thought?

Mike struck with his knife, raising it to slice neatly at the very physical, very real hand of his brother. He reacted in pain, unclenching his fingers and letting him go against his will. Thick, mucousy blood oozed from the slice. Had Jody been a projection, a form that his sphere created, he wouldn’t have bled. He’s seen him in pain, but he always reverted back to a black sphere. There were limits to that form, but Jody was very real, a body, one that bled and had limits.

Jody finally said something, a cry of pain as he pulled his hand away. 

“Just had to be sure.”

His suspicions were correct, and with that he struck quickly and surely, thrusting The Tall Man’s dagger into his brother’s heart. He reacted with a surprised grunt, but fell immediately, his life functions by all means, ceasing to exist. His aura had changed from red, to black- then dissipated completely.

Mike’s brother fell to the ground, landing on his back with the dagger still lodged in his heart. The sphere now fell lifelessly, rolling from his hand and onto the ground. He had to guess his brother couldn’t control them, not like his master could. 

Micheal wished he could feel something. Something akin to remorse, perhaps. Yet instead, he found himself feeling triumphant, resolute, as though he had vanquished something foul and detrimental. Jody was a threat, and he extinguished it. He felt the pride swell in him, pushing the fetid, sugary ichor through his veins and pumped by an xenomorphic heart, he embraced it and everything that came with it. He had conquered the lesser being at his feet, and it felt good.

“...Before I killed my own brother.”

Yes, his brother was dead, a knife through his heart- but _he_ would live, and he would win this, he would make it. He walked around the cooling corpse, not a movement to be had. At this point, Mike had seen more than his share of dead things. But this, this was different. 

“...Or what’s left of him.”

What had remained of his brother had clearly been hijacked. He had no idea if the sphere remained trapped in this Jody’s head just as one remained trapped in his. It didn’t matter, because it wasn’t getting out. Perhaps it was still alive in there, perhaps not. Perhaps he was dead this whole time, this whole thing a facade of trust.

_‘But it seemed so real… He helped us...It was Jody, it had to have been…’_

Just not anymore.

He reached down and yanked the dagger from his brother’s chest. It wasn’t easy, his thrust was deep and had lodged itself perfectly in the muscle of his heart. 

“I won’t be like you…” 

He spoke to his brother’s corpse, flicking the knife to rid it of the thick, phlegm-like blood. It spattered on the ground, each drop loud in the night air. 

No, no he wouldn’t. He would never let him have him. His brother had been easy to vanquish, with a little trickery and enough force, he had destroyed one agent of his agenda. His brother was weak, always had been. Mike didn’t live a life of fast cars and easy pussy, he didn’t get to play guitar on the steps with his best friend- he had to fight against The Tall Man, alongside Reggie, he watched friends come and go, and the ones that stayed? They never lasted. 

Mike would end them all, everyone that bit at his heel. They would fall to their knees or they would fall to his Kind. They would weep, they would scream and they would slit their own throats instead of facing his wrath. None of it mattered, they were his before they knew they existed. They would rue the day they didn’t surrender first, didn’t give into The Ascension. All that fall shall fall forever, all that rise will rise again.

Micheal didn’t ponder why his thoughts were racing in unexpected, unusual directions. Not like before, where he stopped himself from thinking of things that didn’t fit his normal repertoire, in fear that it was part of the transformation into something inhuman. The killing of his brother, even in self-defense, awakened the seething Id that had been the collective consciousness welling beneath his own Ego and Superego. 

He had been right, he had done what needed to be done. Not a part of him felt bad, not one. Mike wiped the yellow blood from the pristine dagger on his now rather dirty jeans, the black-handled knife was something he was coming to love. It was perfect at killing in a neat stab to the right spot, and everything, the new chittering voices in his ear, the plans that overlayed his brother’s body for the briefest of seconds, showing where the heart was- made it far too easy.

Taking a few steps towards the dimensional fork, he reached back and slid it into his back pocket. He was going back to the desert, where he would lay and wait for The Tall Man. If all went to plan, he could get rid of that monster once and for all. He didn’t know who ruled The Red Planet, if it was him or not, but wondered if he could go there next. Perhaps it would fall just as easy, maybe there will be nothing to replace him.

The sphere army, numbering in the thousands of millions by now, would be headless. He wondered what they would do, return to their families? Would they fall as well?

His thoughts were racing faster than he ever thought possible, and yet he couldn’t feel any more triumphant and casual at once. He continued walking towards the dimensional fork with every intent to make it back to Death Valley to begin the final fight between them.

He could see his breath, and had to admit it gave him hope. Although no longer human, he was far from cold inside, far from dead. Mike passed by a large tree without a second thought, and that’s when he was jumped. For all but a second he wondered who it could be, but no- it was Jody, a copy, just like The Tall Man had billions of copies, apparently so did his brother. Fuck, he had to say he didn’t see that one coming.

Jody had his arms around him, bear-hugging him with his far more dense mass. He had always been the bigger brother in more ways than one. Mike waited for what would be a stab or another blade to the head, but instead he was being led towards the dimensional fork. Realizing what he intended, Mike fought back twice as hard, despite his newly increased strength, they were both now at a level playing field, both being changed beings.

It didn’t matter, Jody had the upper hand and had caught him by surprise. He dragged him through the gate, and just like that, Mike felt himself go slack, his vision go white, and his hope vanish.

* * *

He never felt or understood how he got there, but he now laid on a mortuary slab. No doubt thousands of corpses had been prepared here, and when The Tall Man came, he resurrected countless more. His head was in a fog, and he could barely move. The sphere in his head responded by prodding at the opening, willing to join its master. If the sphere did indeed contain his own brain, he felt more then betrayed.

The fogginess was beginning to subside, he had to wonder how he even got into this state. He didn’t recall being hit, and surely he couldn’t succumb to unconsciousness from being hit over the head when he had a metal sphere encasing his brain now, right? He had to guess it was in fact The Tall Man, and although he seemed to be not able to affect him now as he had before, he still could incapacitate him when the time presented itself.

Whatever state he had put him in was beginning to wear off, his head lolling from side to side as his eyelids began to flutter open. The bright lights above him waved from side to side, the light trails following his vision as he tried to find something to focus on. It was then when he heard a familiar sound, the footsteps of a very tall man on polished mausoleum floors. Despite this, his body was telling him to rest, and his mind very much wanted him to agree. It would be easy- just to shut his eyes and fall back asleep, not worry about whatever was happening right now.

But the footsteps were just too alarming. He knew exactly who they belonged to, so he forced his eyes to open, just in time for his brother to place his hands on his shoulders, pushing him down with all his weight. He no longer felt surprised at Jody being there, betraying him like this, but instead found himself amazed at how much stronger he was then him- at least in this subdued state of his.

He looked up into Jody’s eyes, and saw an expression he found difficult to place. There was regret and reservations for sure, but not so much that he was visibly upset. Mike wasn’t sure what to think of him anymore, where Jody was on The Tall Man’s side for real, or was being made to do these things against his will. Was this his fate? Made to do the whims of an alien from another dimension, all the while his brain screamed on the other side, wanting nothing more than sweet release- freedom, or death.

Mike began to struggle, the thought of the incoming pain enough to drive him against whatever restraints, physically or mentally, were in place. He pushed up, his lower half still feeling somewhat heavy. Jody’s strength pushed him well and down every time, not faltering in the slightest. That wouldn’t stop him however.

The footsteps were close now, right upon him, he was here. In a last ditch panic, he forced his weight up as much as he could, and felt him raise from the table- only to be slammed back down, the jolt to his still sensitive head making the room spin and his vision swim. A wave of nausea hit him, and for once was glad he was incapable of vomiting anymore. It wouldn't have made the situation any better.

His head hit the headrest behind him, and he lay flat, head lolling from side to side as he felt himself unable to fight back in his weakened state. Jody still pushed down on him from above, there was no way he was going to get away like this- especially now that The Tall Man was here. The panic couldn’t even correctly manifest, his mood tempered and fight or flight senses in a daze just like the rest of him.

He heard for the briefest of moments as The Tall Man stopped at his feet, staring at him or his brother, he wasn’t sure. Then, the moment that frightened him the most, he heard him moving to his side and towards his head. ‘ _Right where he needed to be.’_

Mike looked up to watch as The Tall Man eyed his brother conspicuously first, making sure, no doubt, that he was still doing as told. Once he had ruled out any upstart behavior, his glance returned to him, and the ice water of pure fear returned to his veins. There was nothing stopping him this time, Jody wouldn’t stop him, Reggie wasn’t here, and he could barely move. 

In his right hand he held a sentinel sphere, just like the one Jody had, and just like all the others. He knew what that would be used for- he felt his large, cold hand grab his head and pull it down to the side, exposing the thinnest part of his skull. His breathing picked up, trying to lift his head to protest once more but finding the weight he used to press down utterly impossible to lift. 

Yet his vision was glued to his other hand, which held the sentinel sphere. He knew full well what it would be used for.

“Now, this won’t hurt a bit.” 

The Tall Man spoke in a way that was quite different than what he was used to, not trying to comfort nor scare him but perhaps the beginning of a very bad joke. Micheal had doubted it wouldn’t hurt very much, although he had hoped it could be true.

_“Cha-chunk!”_

A saw blade popped out from the sphere, just like Jody’s had, and began to rotate with a loud drone. His breathing picked up as he started to hyperventilate, his vision again blurring as the panic sat in.

“Welllll, maybe just a little bit…” 

He smirked, The Tall Man _smirked_ at him, Mike had never seen an extreme expression on his face before, one way or another. The boy wasn’t sure what to make of it, if it was good or bad, but he knew in the end that the alien liked to play games, and this was just another joke to him.

Mike choked on his air as the sphere was moved to his cranium. The razor-sharp blade of each sharp spike caught on his skin and moved, and he felt each one. It took him a second to fully realize the pain, and he wasn’t even cutting the bone yet. A nano-second later and The Tall Man above him pushed downward, and his brain- still in working order- took full realization of the agony presented. 

Each tooth of the saw shredded through the bone of his skull and took mere moments to slice through each inch or so, feeling the somehow less superior saw teeth bouncing off the metal of his own sphere inside. Somehow he was grateful for this; he didn’t want his own brain harmed. No matter what happened to him.

Jody held him down, made it impossible to use his arms fully, but he could grab at the dagger in his back pocket. Yet the agony made it impossible to get a good grip, his whole body vibrating as his teeth clenched. The dagger fell out of his grip and clattered to the floor, useless.

Adrenaline surged and caused his vision to straighten, only for the pain to be too much and sending him back into a panic. His head spun as he screamed, this pain far greater than before, that saw The Tall Man had before seemed more apt to the task, but this sphere must have been the closest he had available. He didn’t care how loud he sounded, he didn’t try to hide it, it was the only thing he _could_ do. The sound of his thick, yellow blood pelting the back of the table as he was being cracked open like an egg was the more distressing sound somehow, that this process was producing a very tangible result, his innards being siphoned off like so much chaff.

The Tall Man would occasionally rock the sphere back and forth, and he could feel every tiny movement on his head. He was sawing through the thicker portion, trying not to hurt the sphere inside him if at all possible. The pain crested as he continued to wail, hoping that it was at least painful to their ears. He had wished he could have been given something for the pain, even if it would have knocked him out. His stomach lurched against his ribcage as it tried in vain to vomit but was no longer capable of doing so. His legs vibrated and strained, unable to find purchase to kick and free himself. Now the only thing he could do is hope he was still capable of passing out.

He had followed the previous scar, zipping through the line he had made days prior. It has since healed a little, but not enough considering the sphere inside him was continuously pushing out. The Tall Man continued beyond it now, and he wasn’t sure what was more painful, cutting the new skull bone or the thicker scar tissue.

Then it hit him, the tuning fork! Both of them were too busy staring at his head, and he made his move. He reached down the front of his jean pants and grabbed it from his front pocket. The Tall Man seemed especially gleeful above him- it was disconcerting to say the least, but the reason became apparent soon enough. With a final jiggle, he worked his way through the final thick strand of his skull, and lifted the chrome sphere clear away from his head. Was he going to inspect the cut before he continued? Was he finished? He wasn’t about to find out.

Mike tapped the fork against the metal embalming table, it rang clear as a bell. Instantly, he gritted down as his teeth rattled together, feeling the effects himself. Perhaps it was because of his unique morphology, or maybe it was because he was prepared for it, but he was still able to keep his thoughts straight and body moving. The Tall Man and Jody however, were a different story.

They both looked at one another in confusion, but it was more than that, it was a clear disruption of whatever signals their bodies were transmitting. They operated on another frequency, a wavelength, then humans did. Then even he himself did. The saw in the sentinel sphere he held continued to spin, he wasn’t sure why, but he reacted swiftly- this would be his only chance.

His fingers wrapped around The Tall Man’s wrist, and drove both it and the sphere into his brother's neck. The saw reacted violently and spit out pieces of his brother’s mangled flesh coupled with his own powdery bits of skull. It choked and wheezed and tore into his jugular, the bubbling sound of his ichorous blood rising forth. 

Jody reacted immediately, clearly in pain but unable to move thanks to the fork. As the sound faded away he grabbed his neck and dove away, leaving him free to finally escape. The Tall Man’s pressure wasn’t enough on it’s own to hold him down, and Mike rolled out from under his hand, all the while his head throbbing in intense torture. 

As soon as he got out, he faced The Tall Man and watched as he attempted to move, so he tapped the tuning fork again. This time the saw also stopped, and had to wonder if different frequencies reached different beings in this dimension. This had been their most effective weapon yet, and now the world seemed a little more hopeful.

For the moment, however, he needed to check his brother. The same one he had just killed in a graveyard god-knows-where, the same one that had tried to do the same now several times over. It was still his brother, even now- he had to check, _he needed to be sure_.

He kept an eye on The Tall Man as he found his brother, crumpled up with his hand over his neck wound. The thick ichor poured up and over his hand, unable to be contained behind it. Mike felt a pang of anger at himself, at him, and at The Tall Man for doing this. His brother had been transformed into a shell of his former self, and now he lay dying while he oozed out the blood of an alien being. His brother looked him right in the eye, and Mike knew- he knew- that for the moment, The Tall Man had no control over him.

“I...Died…” 

Mike furrowed his brows and felt tears welling behind his eyes- he knew his brother was dead, sure, but how? Why?

He came closer, all the while the slime thinned and ran down his hand as it puddled on the floor. Mike knelt as his brother’s side, suddenly wishing that he could take everything back. Was surviving really this important? Was it worth watching Jody die on a mausoleum floor, bleeding out? Who cared what color his blood was- his was the same. They truly were brothers, now. More than ever. They could have served the same master, they could have-

Jody grabbed his arm, bringing him closer and spoke as loudly as he could.

“I died....In the car wreck.”

The air left his lungs as he processed that. He had lied to him earlier, yes, and now he didn’t know why. Had he meant he was dead since then, this doppelganger he saw nothing but a ruse? A shadow of his former self? 

_‘But it was. It was him.’_

That didn’t change that his brother, or something that looked just like him, was dying again. The light was leaving his eyes, his breathing stuttering and stopping. His hand reflexively opened, and the ooz flowed freely from his ravaged neck. His brother’s hand completely let go of him, and he slid to the floor. He was gone. Mike let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, feeling the sickness creep back in, wishing desperately that he could be anywhere else now.

In anger, Mike turned to look over his shoulder to glare at The Tall Man, just in time to see his gaze meet his. Biting down in anger, he held out the tuning fork as a warning. He would use it again, and this time he was really going to slam the thing, make his fucking head explode if possible. 

The Tall Man regained his composure with the sort of grace he’s always had- standing up straight and eyeing the weapon in the boy’s hand. With a squint, Mike was disheartened as the fork was wrenched from his hand suddenly, flying across the room and grabbed easily by the mortician himself. 

Oh.

Well, fuck.

Mike wasn’t proud of that moment, he sat there with not a single weapon, hand still outstretched in alarm. The Tall Man seemed to look at the tuning fork as a sort of curious toy, then slid it into his front pocket with a ‘ _clang’._ He then proceeded to stare at Mike, almost challenging to make the next move.

He wasn’t being grabbed or thrown against the wall, so he did as he could and ran. Down the hall, as fast as he could, even as his head pulsed and vision blurred, his nausea kicking in and knees weak. At the end of the hall was a dimensional fork, he pictured the hearse and Death Valley, and slid through with the last of his will.

Two had gone in, but only one was coming back. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think it would end like this.

* * *

Micheal Pearson arrived on the other side of the fork, falling to his knees as he gasped for air. It was still dark, still cold, but on this side Reggie was still here, waiting for him. 

“Reg!” He cried out, not afraid to sound as destitute as he was.

He was coming for him this time, there was no way around it. It was now or never, the fight for his life, the fight for his freedom, the fight for what very well may be his last night on this planet.

“Mike!” Reggie hurried over and helped his friend to his feet, although he couldn’t help but notice a much larger scar on his friend’s cranium.

“Jody’s dead.” He stated, with far less clout then he had wished to. 

Oddly enough, Reggie seemed far more interested in the yellow secretion draining from his head. He gingerly touched it to gauge how deep it was, but Mike winced as the pain shot directly to his brain. He pulled two fingers away to study it’s color and texture, and Mike sure didn’t have time to explain how and why he ended up like this to his friend, especially when he didn’t know any more than he did.

“You don’t have another one of those tuning forks, do ya?”

He had hoped the answer was yes, but he knew better. Nobody had any need to carry more than one tuning fork anyway. It’s not like there were any music stores nearby that would have made acquiring more any kind of possibility. Reggie’s continued concern and fascination over his head wound told him all he needed to know.

Panic rising high, Mike looked over his shoulder and eyed the dimensional fork wearily. Any minute now he’d step through, and he would have to make his move or be taken captive trying.

“He’s coming for me.” 

Mike knew it now more than he ever did. Not just because of the altercation, or the bleeding hole in his head, but the feeling of the sphere in the head pushing at the incision was back. It was eager to join it’s master, taking his brain and consciousness with it.

“He’s going to rip open my skull… And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

It was going to go wrong, it wasn’t going to work. He knew it; he was going to be cracked open like an egg and the contents pulled out like an unwilling cesarean section. It was going to hurt worse than anything, ever, and it was going to be just the beginning of his infinite hell.

“Hey, It’ll be okay, pal…” 

Reggie gently grabbed him by his lapels and placed him next to the hearse, safely behind him. 

“Here, just stay behind me.”

Reggie grabbed his 4-barrel shotgun, holding it aloft and at the ready.

“Got the ‘Cuda stashed a mile away, once we get to that bitch ain’t _nothing_ gonna stop us;” 

Reggie tilted his head with a smile, he truly believed it- “Anything that tries is gonna get a hot introduction to my four friends here.”

Mike huddled against the car but solidly behind his friend, he was the only chance he had, despite his trap. Yet he knew just the right circumstances would need to line up in order to make it work. Still, he knew Reggie was no match for The Tall Man, none of them ever were. None of them ever had a chance. But they tried, they kept trying, because what other choice was there?

“Thanks for standing with me, Reg.” 

In the end, Mike knew Reggie had lost everything. His best friend, his business, his home, family- all to protect him. Mike knew he wasn’t worth it, knew that he was just a kid who was in the wrong town, watching the wrong funeral at the wrong cemetery and sticking his nose into where it didn’t belong. He didn’t know why The Tall Man chose him, but he knew instigating his plans nine years ago didn’t help the process at all. 

The fact that Reggie was even here still, after everything- he was simply Christ-like in his endeavors. He could never thank him enough, and if he somehow made it through this, he would never forget what he’d done for him.

Reggie looked back at him then, as if to assure him, and remarked, “Don’t mention it…” in a near-whisper as he turned back to the spacegate, ready to battle whomever came through it.

Somehow, seeing The Tall Man himself walk through the gate was more frightening than he expected. This was the end of any sort of game he may have been playing at, he was here to take him and wouldn’t leave empty-handed. Mike’s heart-rate battered hard against his ribs, the erratic, alien beat of a double-thump every other pulse just served to make him even more anxious. ‘ _You’re not even human anymore, Mike. For how long? Days? Months? Years?’_

Now the Tall Man pointedly looked directly at him, beyond Reggie. He didn’t even look upset, just determined.

“...Awwwww shit…”

In a second, it became clear that even though Reggie was there to help, he would never really be prepared for dueling with The Tall Man one-on-one, there was simply no contest. There was an unspoken communication as he targeted Reggie instead of him, the two locking on as Reggie led him away from Mike and The Tall Man followed. There was no concern in his face, as near as he could tell, and the energy that radiated from him was one of amusement, not fear. He wanted to yell to Reggie to run instead, but the words ceased to leave his throat- they had to try everything they could.

Reggie circled him and The Tall Man quartered on him in return. His steps were ominous, the feeling of glee streaking from his aura in waves. This wasn’t going to end well, and prayed that Reggie wouldn’t be hurt at least. There was something about him that The Tall Man wanted as well, although he didn’t have any clue what that was. He didn’t know at what point he would decide he didn’t need him anymore, and squash him easily and without remorse.

The only thing keeping them all alive was how much they were all needed in his master plans, and that terrified him. It unsettled him the most out of everything.

He approached Reggie as he stood still, gun up and pointed at the alien as he got closer- and closer- ‘ _fire, Reg, damn it!’_ All the way up to his pointed gun barrels, and proceeded to press his chest into the pointed end, smirking down at the shorter man with the most devious look he’d ever seen on anyone.

With a mixed look of terror and confusion, Reggie proceeded to do the only thing he could do- pull the trigger. The sound resonated in the hollow space around them, the “click” misplaced around Reggie bracing for what should have been an intense shot that had the power to blast away The Tall Man’s entire torso. Yet no- instead it was incredibly obvious that he had telepathically stopped the firing pins from working, nothing Reggie did would have stopped him then. 

Now the energy that surrounded the alien was a jumping, vibrating glee. He watched with horror as The Tall Man grabbed the quad-barrel shotgun and tossed it aside like a toy, wrenching his other hand around Reggie’s neck and holding him aloft. The shimmering waves swirling around his aura reminded him of laughter, and he had to wonder if this was the only way this creature laughed, if this was all he lived for.

Yet The Tall Man could still smile, and did so as he looked at the smaller man that dangled from his grasp. It was clear that Reggie was struggling to breathe, letting his throat open just enough so he could speak.

“Wha...What do you want?”

A poignant question. He had been toying with them for so long when he could have easily killed any of them, even back in Morningside. Time and time again, he let them slip away, let Reggie live, let Mike live, even ensured his survival, let Jody come back before ensnaring him again- why? Why any of this? Why me? 

“Ice Cream Man.” He addressed sardonically, “It’s all in his _head_.”

_‘What?’_

Mike assumed he meant it literally, but was it? Was this all a dream? Was he still in a coma? 

There was no time to question it, because The Tall Man launched Reggie several feet through the air. It would have been easy to snap the man’s neck, and yet he didn’t. He did hit his head, and he heard the sound of the wind being knocked out from him. Although Mike had a harder time sensing Reggie’s aura, he knew the man was in pain. The waves rolling from him like pulsing lines.

The Tall Man turned to him without a second of concern- as far as he was concerned he was untouchable. Maybe he was right, maybe nothing could stop him. But what he had prepared for him certainly wasn’t nothing.

Mike looked back at him, not hiding his terror despite it all. Now The Tall Man’s aura had changed again, the amusement subsided, and to his surprise a gentle calm rolled around him, like low waves lapping at the shore. It had the opposite effect on Mike, however, because he knew why he was calm. This wasn’t a game to him anymore, not this part- it was something he needed to do, for whatever reason. Something he had been working toward for a very long time.

Inside his head the sphere pushed, this time harder- this time towards The Tall Man. Mike felt like everything was closing in around him, it was now or never.

“It’s time now, boy.”

It was amazing how calm he was, he wasn’t angry, wasn’t cocky, just… It reminded him of his mother, when he wanted something his way and she would just resolutely stand still and assure the young him that no, this was the way it was- she wasn’t mad, despite all the trouble he caused, she wasn’t going to punish him, but it was still time. Time to go to bed, time to leave a store, time for dinner- it unsettled him. Part of him wanted to leave with him, peacefully, the draw, the pull was there and was beyond enticing. 

But no, instead he sought to sever that connection, not bridge the gap. Erase it, turn it to ash.

“Yes.” He stated, feeling his body come alive with the abilities he’d harvested, “It is.”

The tiny sphere he had created came to life. It clicked and shuddered, powering up and rising from it’s nest inside the engine of the hearse. The Tall Man’s eyes shifted from left to right in confusion, quite clearly not anticipating dealing with a sphere that wasn’t his. This sphere had a simple computer mind, nothing like The Tall Man’s creations, but it didn’t need it. It had only one purpose, and that purpose would be over soon. 

He focused intently on the little thing, able to see it in his mind’s eye like it was right in front of him. Rotating in midair, it released it’s three-way prongs with sharp tips, and with that it rocketed towards its destination.

The sound it made was identical, and he gave himself credit for being able to make something so close to the real thing on such little notice. It flew with nearly perfect speed and form towards The Tall Man, knowing it’s intended target at the behest of it’s master. It was about all it knew, it’s mind nothing but computer parts from a Cadillac hearse. It flew full speed into the back of The Tall Man’s head, sticking there and being able to do little else.

Mike watched as The Tall Man jolted forward from the impact, visibly surprised for certain. The aura around him projected confusion, as did his face. His sphere chittered and whirred as it was plucked from the back of his head, bringing it in front of him to see what exactly had flown into his skull.

His expression was one of amusement, and Mike couldn’t be certain in what capacity. Truely, the sphere was no danger to him, and if Mike had intended it to be the real threat, he could see why it would be so funny. Yet the aura that rippled around him was… different. Yes amusement was there, along with something else. Pride. Was he proud that Mike had already been making his own creations? His own spheres? Amused at the idea that despite running from him, he was becoming him, all despite his best efforts?

“A toy?” 

He questioned, and Mike couldn’t blame him. The sphere could barely hurt anyone, much less The Tall Man.

No, what he had prepared for him wasn’t a toy at all.

While The Tall Man was distracted by the sphere he held in his hand, he brought the schematics to his bomb up before him. There were more moving parts that needed to be handled at once then anyone could ever compare- anyone human, maybe. He pulled valves loose, he brought forth powers that the dimensional fork itself harnessed, passing them through the acceleration port, pushing and revving the main engine again and again as it picked up speed.

He could hear it from here, as could The Tall Man. Now this, _this_ got his attention. His kind was curious, especially when it would come to something Mike may have made. He looked over towards the exposed engine and light, his face and aura both showcasing his complete and utter fascination with whatever he may have been able to make now. He started walking over to get a better look.

Mike stood his ground, focus unparalleled now. He braced his body and strained, his frame wavering as his physical form struggled to keep up with the sphere in his head- all as he continued to rev the engine, around and around, faster each time. The sound from the engine continued to boil and build, smoke billowing from the top as an awful burning smell filled the air.

The Tall Man was closer now, still perplexed, the smoke now coming out in a thick mist. It was then when he looked towards Mike, his expression changing as he realized what he had done. 

_‘Too late, asshole.’_

He revved the engine up as fast as it would go, and with that the explosion came. Mike never even had time to close his eyes, and witnessed the complete, orange and tremendous ball of fire in its purest, blinding form. It started at the engine and enveloped The Tall Man as he stood there, holding his “toy” sphere. The rest of the car quickly followed suit, erupting in such an intense fashion that he felt himself lifted by the wall of energy, thrown several feet away and with a sharp crush of agony in every body part he had.

The flames rose high into the sky, the heat searing even to his cold-hating form. The smell may have been the worse part, a melting of what had to be Tall Man flesh, seats, metal and plastic. The orange fire seared his retinas and now he saw nothing but repeats of the same image over his vision, blinking it away to try and get a handle- trying to see if he was still there, if that golden sphere of his had been destroyed as well. 

Though he wished for The Tall Man’s death to be more painful, sadly this would have been so fast and intense that it would have been instant. He appeared to have been vaporized, nothing left. At least, not in pieces big enough to see- which was close enough he supposed.

A flaming object rained down- oh, a muffler. He’d laugh if he could. There was no doubt that he had acquired some damage. He hurt all over, inside and out. Not only did he have broken bones, like ribs and probably a leg, but his abdomen felt like it had been melted inside. Had he suffered organ damage? Was he bleeding inside? He couldn’t move, not one inch. 

Mike had enough in him to roll over, and regretted that immediately. Yet he had to see- had too- that he was gone, all of him. The sphere in his head was doing some weird shit, both pushing at his incision and vibrating. He did his best to ignore it. If The Tall Man was dead, that would mean it would be confused for sure, and he expected as much. 

Yet he soon saw why, with his own eyes and ears. The aura he used to see no longer existed, instead, _only_ the aura lived, and it was on fire. A tornado of flames, right where The Tall Man had stood, screamed and chittered in both anger, agony- and malice. It screamed “ _Boy”_ over and over again in a distorted, frightening fashion, the tones mixing and changing high and low, it’s flames licking the heavens and curling higher and higher.

_‘Is this his true form? Is this why he can’t be killed?’_

Merely seeing and hearing the _thing_ was enough to make his crushed heart race, hammering against his broken ribs. It made him question all that he knew about life and death, about what could constitute as living and what couldn’t. How could one kill a storm? Or a sound? An element of nature? Or even beyond that? What choice did they have?

Yet another sound rose up and above the cacophony of the damned, the sound of a dimensional fork powering up, and someone stepping through it. Just like that, the flames in the tornado quashed, the cries died, and it ceased to be. It was almost as disturbing as it being there in the first place.

Mike squinted off into the distance, beyond the bright flames of the hearse, to see who stepped through the gate. Of course he knew- he always knew, deep down.

The Tall Man stood between the poles, looking towards him as though he wasn’t even upset about being blown apart. As though none of this really mattered to him at all.

“No…”

No. No. No, no, no, no, _no._ He had fought too hard and come too far, to have this happen to him. _No!_

Mike tried to force himself to get back up, but the pain was abysmal, and his flesh weak. The sphere in his head, the goddamn traitor, was now pushing at his head in a renewed fervor. Was his body dying? Or was the pull of The Tall Man something he could no longer physically resist?

He watched as The Tall Man’s aura rippled with glee upon spotting him on the ground. His expression was the same- _of course_ he was ecstatic, there wasn’t anything in his way this time. No Reggie, no bomb- just him and the boy- _his boy._

_‘I always belonged to him.’_

He mournfully realized, he wasn’t sure where the intrusive thought came from, but it made him weep internally. He wouldn’t let him see real tears, no, _I won’t be remembered as weak._

The Tall Man closed in on his prey like a predator, striding past the car’s inferno as if the heat didn’t exist at all. With each approaching step, Mike’s heart launched into his chest, and yet he could do nothing but lay there, head on the cool ground. Finally he was there, staring down, looking at him. Mike could see his black polished shoes. He gave The Tall Man the weakest of acknowledgements, lifting his head up just enough to see his face- to see that look of satisfaction.

_‘Damn you to hell.’_

_‘Not possible. For either of us.’_

It was then when he realized the intrusive thoughts were never his own- but it was a realization too late. Micheal watched as The Tall Man reached down, his own eyes widening and body shaking- then felt that large, cold hand on the side of his head again, pressing him into the dirt. His breath quickened as he heard the _squelch_ of his bloody incision being pressed on, and although he may not of wept, he was already beginning to whimper in terror. This terror wasn’t just of pain, but of a lifetime of servitude, of enslavement- and god knows what else. It was the unknown that was the most terrifying, his body shaking from head to toe as the sphere in his head was now obediently pressing on the break in his skull, and unlike before, it didn’t stop.

_‘Oh god, here it is, here it comes-’_

He shook with great disgust as The Tall Man pressed his fingers into his incision, parting the flesh and skull to make the sphere’s exit easier. He heard a ‘ _crack’_ and it was then when Mike knew this was it, there was no going back now. The pain was instantaneous, and at first it was so searing that he was taken aback and screamed silently, but that didn’t last long. He heard the humming of the sphere now as it made its way out, aided by The Tall Man, like a morbid midwife.

Pushing harder, he screamed this time out loud, it was far more painful then the saw was. This was something pushing its way out of his skull, crushing and forcing all the nerve endings asunder on it’s way out. His vision was going spotty now, no doubt the contact between his brain and eyes now being severed. Soon he might be blind, he may never see anything again. He felt his cool blood slicking his hair as the orb forced its way out, the humming increasing as he felt The Tall Man working it free from his scalp.

_‘OH GOD!’_

The widest part now was cresting- his screaming now the only partial relief, he cried for death, for it to be over soon- _FUCK!_ His vision went black, then light again- then black, his hearing wavered in and out, he felt disoriented, separated from his own body, like floating- it was hell, he didn’t even have the grounding sensation of nausea. The pain, the astronomical feeling of agony, of birthing a fucking sphere from his head- it had to be over- it _needed_ to be over-

_‘POP-’_

It was gone, it was out. The sound of the sphere leaving his head, the blood dripping from his incision, the cool secretions on his skin- it was all not where it was supposed to be, floating above him or away. His last cries, cries he didn’t even remember making, pitiful little wails and whimpers as The Tall Man stood above him, admiring his prize. He felt the aura more than he saw it, the feeling of satisfaction, glee, and oddly enough, regret.

His body buzzed, the very distinct feeling of pain from the process reigned supreme, yet it felt miles away. His flesh and blood spasmed and twitched, like one who had taken an extreme blow to the head. In a way he supposed he did- yet as The Tall Man walked away, he felt his own body also growing further away with it, his vision though dark, not totally gone quite yet. He watched as his aggressor walked back to the dimensional fork, his sphere in hand, then stopping just before leaving.

Around him, the aura rippled again. Regret, it had been regret. Mike wanted to understand, but he was dying- his body thrashing and twitching like a chicken with it’s head cut off. Even now the pain was intense, everything throbbed, everything was sore, his empty head now strangely obvious. His skull felt hollow and light, it was extremely distressing. Now he longed for it, for the embrace of death. Maybe it was this easy, maybe he wouldn’t be enslaved, maybe just a part of him, but the real him? The one laying in the sand of Death Valley, maybe that Mike would die. Maybe this one could be at peace.

Footsteps. Shuffled, tired footsteps running his way. He had nearly forgotten.

Reggie.

“Mike…!” 

He said in a hushed tone, almost afraid to speak too loud, he grabbed his hand, and Mike was disturbed to find he couldn’t feel it. 

“Mike...You’re still alive!” 

God willing, he wouldn’t be for long.

He had to have seen what happened, was just as amazed as he was that he wasn’t dead from what he saw.

Mike willed himself to look up, he could barely see the man, his shape recognizable through the haze and nothing more. He locked eyes, or at least where he assumed his eyes should be, but the spasming wouldn’t stop, his legs kicking out at the lack of a neurological connection.

“I’m dying, Reg.”

He wished he had the luxury of wanting to feel hopeful, but there was no coming back from this. Having the sphere ripped out was always meant to be his end, it was never meant to be something he could recover from. 

Reggie, bless the man, shook his head.

“No, don’t let go…” but he wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he was ready. He was ready for it to be over.

Being this close, he felt his friend’s anger roil off him in waves, then he looked back to the dimensional fork. It was clear what he had in mind. Whether he meant to simply take revenge against The Tall Man or retrieve his sphere, he was unsure. He wanted to tell him to forget it, to go back to living your life, but he was fading fast. Nothing was working now, only the bare minimum of his senses.

“I’ll be right back for ‘ya.” 

He promised, and let go of Mike’s hand- it was the last thing he heard, his hearing slipping away afterward.

His vision was darkening around the edges, watching Reggie run to the fork. His own tremors stopped, body cooling as his ability to move physically vanished. Reggie looked farther and farther away with each second. He had turned around and locked eyes, seeing his dying form there, his state clear as day. Mike was gone, he was dead. Reggie jumped into the dimensional fork, his destination unknown.

Mike’s eyes dilated one last time, watching his friend disappear. His alien heart stopped, his yellow blood ceased to circulate.

His vision faded into blackness and for one sweet merciless second, Mike thought he was free of The Tall Man. With dawning horror cutting through his own peaceful state of mind he remembered his first attempt at escape earlier that day-

_‘Death is no escape from me.’_

* * *

Warmth. He wasn’t warm himself, no he was very, very cool indeed- as dead things tended to be, he supposed. But far away, in the distance, he felt it. There was a pinprick of light, and he remembered that ghastly nurse from his hospital room telling him to approach it. She ended up being a legion of The Tall Man, and it made him stop.

All his life he’d heard how one was to “go to the light” at the end of the tunnel when they died, that it meant going to heaven. Yet when he tried to do so all but a few days back, The Tall Man stood before him, and he wondered if his intent was to stop him from doing so, or to intercept him there. Jody had told him not to go; but was he trying to help him, or The Tall Man? He apparently needed to be alive when the sphere was extracted, for whatever reason. That has been made abundantly clear.

Now he stood in a black void, his feet on something solid, but not ground for certain. He was dressed in the clothes he died in, his head was still damaged, but there was no pain. Yet he was cold, damn cold, his extremities more than anything else. And he felt with each passing second, that he was getting colder.

The experience at the hospital was enough to give him pause, he didn’t want to repeat the same course of action. If he went towards the light, likely The Tall Man would be there again. Yet the longer he stood there, the cold began to seep into his bones, and it affected him all the more now that he wasn’t human. Slowly, he began to walk towards the light in order to gain some sort of heat, but stopped, knowing what may lay beyond.

Soon, however, the process was being made for him. The room was lightening, and he felt himself being pushed forward by an invisible wall. He tried fighting against it, but gave up when he realized he had little else to do in this void. Where else could he go? 

Now the room was a bright white, and the portal came quickly into view. Even in a white room, the light coming from it was easy to see. Already he felt better, the light was indeed warm and welcoming, a sense of peace and belonging enshrouded him. Was this heaven? 

There was no Tall Man in sight, no Jody either. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he knew where he was being forced to go. Whatever was on the other side, he reasoned it couldn’t possibly be worse than what he had gone through in the world of the living.

He was surrounded by light as he stepped through, blinding, his body felt superheated to the point of nearly being uncomfortable. If this was heaven, it sure seemed a bit different then what he was told.

Red. The light turned red. Pins and needles up his back and arms, his breath hitched in his throat- he was surrounded by red light, a red world, not unlike… Not unlike the red of the Red Planet, _his_ world- ‘ _Oh God no’-_

Mike tried to run, although he had no idea what he was running from in this instance. His lungs burned, his throat prickled as it inhaled poisonous gases he couldn’t handle. His brain screamed that this shouldn’t be possible, that he had changed, that he could live here now. Yet it didn’t matter, none of it mattered. The sheer gravity collapsed his lungs and soon he stumbled on the hard rocks, scratching his palms and sending him into a panic- his eyes stung, tears running down his face as he blinked them away. The sound of furiously whipping winds filled his ears, unable to focus, unable to discern any attackers. His skin- his skin blistered and turned red- _radiation burns-_ Just in time, his stomach shrunk up against his spine and he tried to vomit, finding nothing in his stomach but bile as the sickly taste clawed it’s way up his gullet.

_‘This is hell. I’m in hell.’_

He took off in another run, doing his best as he struggled to breath, struggled to move, anything. It was better than nothing. Soon he picked up speed and ran headlong, only to find he no longer felt the rocks he tramped on. He looked down and screamed when he discovered his feet were simply no longer _there._ His legs mere stumps pumping through the air, and yet his speed increased.

Hyperventilating now, somehow the ability to breath became even worse, like holding his breath underwater as he struggled to breach the surface. However there was no doubt that he was somehow still alive, and yet it didn’t stop his panic, even as he became further disturbed by the lack of heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

When he realized he could no longer feel his legs, he looked again to find them gone as well. Vanished, nothing but a torso hurtling through the air at this point. ‘ _This is all a dream, just a dream.’_ He shook as he went faster somehow, his legs had done nothing but hold him down.

Soon his hands were gone, vaporized by whatever hellish being was disassembling him.

_‘Oh God! Oh God they took my hands- they took them-’_

Then his body, then his heart- then his senses, all of them, until there was no more, nothing but his conscious mind, screaming in a voice nobody could hear. Nobody except-

It was then when Mike woke up.

* * *

Micheal Pearson faded into consciousness. His vision was streaked in rainbows and hues not normal to the human eye, and understandably the confusion was jarring for him. He found he couldn’t blink, didn’t need to- and he oddly enough couldn’t turn his head from side to side.

_'Where the hell am I… What’s wrong with my eyes.’_

He was in a large ‘plastic’ room, it appeared, and to his right he saw a large window and outside it, a city. This city was insanely different, the shapes were all wrong and simply looking at it made him uncomfortable. With horror he realized there were spheres flying about outside, some small, some as large as battleships. Beyond it all was the horizon, a storm brewing dark and evil. Everything was red and terrible- and he made the connection with little effort.

The Red Planet. He was on The Red Planet.

Mike tried to take a deep breath, but it felt hollow, unsatisfying. He tried to breath out, and felt as though he never inhaled to begin with. To his left was nothing but a blank wall, but even the rooms on this planet were different. The room appeared round, no harsh edges if it could be helped.

_‘I gotta get the hell outta here.’_

It became clear to Mike very soon that he couldn’t move, at least not in the way he was trying. The very clear signals one sends from brain to body weren’t working so well, and it became obvious something was very wrong. Was he paralyzed? The last thing Mike remembered was being in Death Valley, it was at night- something happened with his head, extreme pain. It was so white-hot that it was traumatizing. He would never forget it, it was scorched into his neurons.

Then he tried to talk, to call out for anyone at all, just someone to tell him what happened- but no, that wasn’t working either. At least, not with his mouth. He found he could speak with his mind as much as he wanted to, a lot of good that does, he figured. Yet it seemed far more booming in the room then he expected it to.

“ _Hello? Hello! Anyone there? I can’t- I can’t move. Please! Can someone help me!?”_

Something disconcerting happened. The spheres that had been floating by the window to his right began to crowd towards the window. He felt chilled to the core, golden spheres, much like The Tall Man’s himself, made up part of the swarm. Some were different colors, others were beings he couldn’t even begin to describe. Too many arms, legs- _eyes,_ forms twisted and oozing, things that were only mouths, things that tried to speak gibberish to him in his head, but he firmly ignored out of sheer terror.

The sound of a familiar hum made him look to his left, and he let go of that anxious breath he held. Jody! A black sphere entered the room, the doorway itself must have been hidden or opaque, he never heard anything open.

_“Mike!’_ He heard his hushed-like voice carry over in his head. _“You’re up! He said you might be a while yet, but… I’m so glad. I’m so glad you’re okay.”_

Okay? He sure didn’t feel okay.

_“Why can’t I move?”_

Mike countered, wanting to know what’s wrong. 

_“Or speak- and my vision is weird- everything is about twenty more shades than it needs to be.”_

There was a pregnant pause, one that Mike didn’t like very much at all.

“ _Mike… you don’t remember?”_

It was Mike’s turn to be quiet.

_“Not much- I remember fighting The Tall Man in the desert, I remember hurting my head…”_

Oh god, was he paralyzed? Was that it? 

_“Mike… The Tall Man chose you for an experiment, he says you took to it better than any he’s tried it on before.”_ Jody began to explain, _“Liz, and others, they were experiments, too, but none made it to the final phase. None showed the promise you did.”_

_“Jody what the hell are you talking about. What did he do to me?”_

_"It’s complicated, Mike. Just… listen, in the hospital, he changed into your doctor whenever he saw fit, or a nurse, or a visitor- he made your caretakers his minions. He had free reign to do what he wanted, and it took two years until he thought you were ready.”_

Micheal felt a wave of sickness overcome him, and yet he didn’t feel his stomach respond whatsoever. It was unnerving on top of everything else. For two years The Tall Man had access to his body, to experiment with as he saw fit. He had suspected this, and yet it didn’t make the revelation any easier.

“... _Ready for what?”_

Mike asked, afraid of the answer.

_“Do you remember waking up from that coma? Do you remember when he captured you and tried to saw into your head?”_

It was all coming back now. Looking down at his hand, seeing the yellow blood and having that first moment of confused terror. Then he sought a mirror, and-

“ _A mirror.”_ He ordered, “ _I need a mirror right now.”_

_“I don’t think that’s such a good idea-”_

_“Now!”_

Mike should have known something was wrong when Jody hesitated, but eventually did move down to his level. It was then when he realized Mike couldn’t see his body in front of him. If he had been laying down, surely he could at least see his feet. He inhaled sharply as Jody’s exterior brightened, and formed a mirror-like surface right in front of him.

A golden sphere looked back at him. It was flawless, truly, a thing of beauty, and he saw Jody reflected back at him with his pure-black sheen. He didn’t see the eyes he was looking at himself with, but it didn’t matter. There was no question now. 

All the memories rushed back, the time spent in Death Valley as the sphere that now looked back at him tried to force it’s way from his skull. The buzzsaw as it tore through his cranium, the car bomb, and finally The Tall Man claiming the prize that he now inhabited himself. It did indeed contain his brain, and now that his body was dead, this was where his consciousness remained.

Now here he was, exactly what he feared- a slave to The Tall Man.

_“Mike?”_

There was a second, then Micheal inhaled air that he knew he didn’t _actually_ breath in- and he screamed. He screamed and he screamed and he screamed.

Jody shook as he watched the denizens outside increase in number and beat on the window, he tried to calm them all, telling them he was just panicking but it was all right. It wasn’t working. 

_“Mike, you need- you need to stop! He’s going to hear you, he’s-”_

Then just like that, Jody stopped himself, sensing the incoming presence. 

_“He’s here.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some quick things to put out there;
> 
> 1\. I find some Phantasm fics forget that so little time has passed between Mike getting out of the coma and until now. Watch the movies and take note, it has only been a few days. I know it feels longer then that, especially since the main cast has aged between movies, but I don't believe this to be anything but using the same cast over the course of the years. Jody shouldn't be aging at all since he's 'undead', and should look like his P1 self, if not P3. Mike should look how he does in P3, and The Tall Man always looks intimidating, but if I had to pick, I think he looks his best in P2 and P3. I don't personally believe this is a result of any time distortion or anything, just a lack of anti-aging technology and the same cast many years later. So this story will be written with these choices in mind.
> 
> 2\. Observers will notice pieces from scripts and deleted footage not found in the movie. I included these as I felt they made more sense included then not. 
> 
> 3\. That part with Jody disappearing then reappearing? It's in the movie, watch carefully. We don't see what happens between them, but there's a Jody fading away as another enters the picture. I decided to include this part, so I take no credit for the idea. 
> 
> 4\. Sorry I made you read a novelization of Mike's part in Oblivion, lol. I feel it was important to understand his change from inside his shoes. Now comes the original stuff! Whooo!
> 
> REVIEW!


End file.
